Kill Me I'm a Monster
by Calla Mae
Summary: Don't start this story thinking he's a monster. I never did. It's my fault. All of it. It's okay if you hate me by the end of this story, I think I hated me too. I guess now would be a good time to warn you; don't expect me to be alive at the end of the story just cause I'm telling it. KhanxOC
1. I'm wasted, losing time

I suppose I should start by saying he hadn't specifically come looking for me. It just sort of happened. But I don't really know; I never did with him. It's possible he had chosen me specifically, just like it's possible that he had accidentally found me in a bar.

I guess what I'm trying to say is don't start this story thinking he's a monster. I never did. I guess I should also tell you not to think that I was a hostage, or a victim. I mean I was. For most of it.

He made me do a lot of things; he threatened me with my life, with other people's. But he didn't hurt me. Not really at least.

But there were some things I did willingly, that I should be ashamed of. I'm not. But I should be. I think he did that to me. He changed me, and I think I let him. I think I let him do a lot of things, and I don't think he meant for any of it to happen. You see, I was the one factor he couldn't really control - the factor he hadn't meant to add to the equation. He could make me do things I didn't want to, he could keep me from running away, he could use me to his advantage – but there were things about me that were out of his hands. Like my feelings.

I think I may have loved him, at least a little. I'd like to tell you I think he loved me too, in his own way. But I don't really know. All I know is that he took me against my will, and at some point he didn't have to threaten me anymore; I just did what he asked.

I think he broke me.

It wasn't his fault, at least not really. I didn't have to give in, I didn't have to do anything he said. I could have just let him kill me, kept my honor. But I didn't. I was scared, and then he aimed his gun at other people – and then I didn't dare think of saying no.

I don't want you to think it was Bones' fault either. I mean he was the reason I was drinking that night, he was the reason I drank a lot of nights – but it wasn't really his fault. And I know he thinks it is.  
Can I tell you a secret? I think I loved Bones too. I just didn't know at the time. I didn't know a lot of things.

It's my fault. All of it. And it's okay if you hate me by the end of this story, I think I hated me too. I guess now would be a good time to warn you; don't expect me to be alive at the end of the story just because I'm telling it.

* * *

_So this story loosely goes with Letters From the Sky; in that the character is still Ellie Davis and she's still Jim's cousin. The events leading up to this are all the same, and if you haven't read my other story it's pretty easy to catch up - you don't really have to read it to be able to follow along in this one. This will be a Khan x OC, with only a small amount of Bones. I'm not sure if I want to stray into M, so if you're interested in me doing that (cause there will be sex, only I don't know how detailed I want to go) please let me know.  
_

_Also, I've decided to try first person, which this is my first time, so please tell me how I'm doing. I honestly have no idea cause I've never done first person before. Thank you all for reading._


	2. I'm a foolish, fragile spine

_Trekker: thank you, it's good to hear you have faith in me. _

_Lola: thanks so much, I'm so glad you think I did the first person well. Hope you still think so after this chapter. I'm not entirely sure if it will all be in past tense. I think parts of this chapter are present, and past tense is intermingled. But I honestly have no idea. _

* * *

It happened after the Romulans were defeated, after we returned home. Jim was made a captain, Pike asked me to help him walk again, and Jim told Bones I was supposed to die. It wasn't until much later that I figured out that was why Bones had decided to hate me – and by then it was too late.

I couldn't make Pike walk again, at least without a cane; I guess I should tell you that. I tried so hard. I researched the means to do it, he refused more surgery unless the success rate was one hundred percent. Needless to say, there was nothing.

By the time Chief Sullivan called me to her office to discuss me going to London with our head neurosurgeon, it was a relief to get away.

We came all that way for nothing, or so Dr. Phillips presumed. The patient's synapses were crossed, my solution was to rewire them but Dr. Phillips refused; he said it was too "experimental." You wanna know the truth, he was too lazy to put in the effort. So I, being the head strong think I'm right about everything surgeon that I am, decided to go to the London hospital's chief and talk to him. We ended up staying, being assured we'd be payed and housed and given anything we needed until we were finished.

The sad thing, if I had let it go there's a chance nothing would have happened. We would have left Europe and I wouldn't have met John Harrison until he came aboard the Enterprise. But I was me, and though I try not to care I can't help it. I met the patient, I met his wife and their two children. And I couldn't let it go – I couldn't walk away without blaming myself for not doing something. Don't think it was just about the patient, I would have had a guilty conscious – I guess it was selfish.

Either way Dr. Phillips reprimanded me, yelled at me for having "the gall" to go against his orders. Who says that anymore?

But he assigned me the task of figuring out exactly what we were gonna do, while he did nothing. And then I would report back to him, show him what I found, and then if he liked it we'd approach the patient.

I guess that was the first night I met John Harrison. I was angry, frustrated that I was being punished for doing my job as a doctor. So I did what any person would do, I found a bar. I think I've figured out why he chose me now, I was still in my scrubs; and he wanted in the hospital.

I'm getting too far ahead of myself, you still don't know what all happened that first night. I was walking into the bar while he was walking out and I said excuse me. He moved around me, probably cast a look back to see my name, and then left. That was it. That was our very first meeting. It didn't last long enough for me to even realize he was handsome, and he was handsome. But somehow that's the moment it all started. It wasn't when I was being stubborn and refusing to go home with nothing to show – it was never about me. It was then, it was about him.

To tell the truth it was the third time we met that you really wanna hear about. But I'll tell you our second meeting first – at least what I remember of it. I had just given Dr. Phillips an idea, I don't even remember what it was that's how mediocre it was. I do remember his sneer, and that I wanted to punch him when he said I was proving to be worthless. If you really want to know, rewiring someone's brain is just about impossible. There's nothing conclusive to assure the patient of any options, let alone yourself as a surgeon. There was only ever one option, I just hadn't stumbled across it yet.

I'm pretty sure I told John all of that, including how Dr. Phillips was an arrogant jackass. I don't know what I told him after ten minutes of him sitting down beside me at the bar.

"I saw you here the other night," he said as a means of introduction. It was better than a pick up line, but I can't imagine him actually saying one of those aloud.

I turned to him and studied his face – this is where his being handsome crossed my mind – until I remembered. "You held the door open when I got here." He smiled, I guess pleased I had remembered him.

"And you didn't even say thank you," he said with a half smile.

I turned from him, fighting a smile of my own. If you've ever heard an english accent you would understand, at least if you're American. They can be beautiful. But his voice, a deep timbre that was almost a purr. I was charmed I guess, he could certainly be charming when it suited a situation. Perhaps I should explain more; I was the situation.

Somehow he convinced me to let him buy me a drink, one that would solve my problems for the night. He introduced himself, though I didn't remember his name in the morning. I don't remember anything after the first sip of my drink. He could have drugged me, it could have been a really strong drink, or I was already wasted and adding that made me black out. Either way I woke up alone the next morning in my hotel room wearing nothing. And it wasn't until I got into the shower that I realized how sore I was.

I don't want you to think he took advantage of me, I honestly don't know if he did – which means you don't either. Although you might think differently after I tell you of our third meeting. I was nothing but willing.

* * *

_So I only got one person who said they were okay with M scenes. Next chapter can either be M or T, depending on the details you want. So if you have a preference please let me know, or else I just keep it T. (I would so not mind doing M though) Also, I'm trying to do her narration as kind of conversational; and a bit sarcastic in some places. But again, I have no idea what I'm doing with first person. So please let me know how you think I'm doing. _


	3. I want all that is not mine

_Lola: I hope this one was less choppy, I tried to look for it. But part of the story will be the vagueness, cause at this point she knows what happens. And she's telling the story, so I'm trying to make it like how a person would think and sometimes she get ahead of herself. And sometimes she doesn't think it's important, or it isn't important yet so she's alluding to it. So I'm trying to make parts of it like how a person thinks, which is often quite scattered and sometimes not very revealing. I think part of the details from my other stories was that I could delve into my character's head and all the characters around them; here I can't really do that. _

* * *

I didn't see him for a few days, I was too caught up at the hospital where my patient was getting worse. In fact, I had all but forgotten him if no more than a passing thought. I hadn't known he was in the diner when I went for lunch, I had no idea until he sat across from me.

I looked up startled when someone slid into my booth, and then I saw his face. In the dim light of the bar I hadn't realized how handsome he was, with a cousin like Jim handsome men did nothing for me. But there was something in his eyes, which were dark and hot as he stared at my face; he wasn't just a handsome man.

"It seems we continue to find each other," he said, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth.

My eyes narrowed. "You could say that," I said not even trying to feign pleasantness.

His smile grew at my bland tone and he sat back as he appraised me. "Do you remember my name, Elenore?" he asked confidently, something I found irritating when he obviously knew I didn't. He chuckled deeply as he leaned forward. "I remember many things about you," he said, his voice a growling timbre making my chest flush. His eyes were sharp as they bore into my face, that arrogant smile on his mouth.

"Like what?" I asked, curious as to what he would say. I expected the obvious – from America, I work at a hospital – things men normally said to easily pick up a girl; things I would have rolled my eyes at. But that wasn't what he said. And I'll be honest, he surprised me.

"Well for starters," he said propping himself on his elbows as he leaned even closer, "your patient was in an accident and his motor functions have deteriorated from his synapses being crossed." My eyes widened and he smiled. "Your head surgeon thinks, 'rewiring' is what you said I believe, is too risky so now you have to find a different solution."

I continued to stare at him in surprise and he sat back looking smug. "You have a good memory," I said finally, not knowing if there was anything else I could say.

"As do you," he told me, the heat in his eyes making it hard for me to hold his stare. "You had many ideas on how to fix him. How fascinating your mind works; as though a million thoughts are swarming trying to make connections."

I didn't notice then the gleam in his eyes as he said that, I didn't recognize his fascination with how I thought. All I took note of was that in my drunken state I had thought of procedures. "Were any good?"

He gave short quiet laugh as he shook his head. "Before you had finished an idea you were already saying why it wouldn't work."

I sat back with a sigh and then looked at him, remembering my state when I had woken the morning after I'd met him. "How'd we get to my room?" I asked, seeing a flash of his teeth as he smiled.

"Well you were intoxicated," he said simply. "I wasn't too far behind, to be honest. I'm afraid I don't remember much." That was a lie, he hadn't had a single drink. He remembered everything – I didn't know that then.

I nodded taking a sip of my water. "Do you remember leaving?" I asked with a small smile and he laughed lightly as he looked at me; I don't think his eyes ever left my face.

"I tried to escape the awkward morning after," he admitted; it was my turn to smile.

I liked him. He was honest – at least I thought it was. "Of a one night stand," I finished, nodding; I would've done the same thing.

His eyes were hard when I looked at him, heavy so that I could feel their weight. "It doesn't have to be," he said lowly, his voice smooth and charming; his lips curled in a half smile.

I was struck by how fierce his stare was, how intent his gaze was on my face. No one had ever looked at me with half the heat that burned in his eyes, had looked at me like there was even a small part of me that mattered; not even Bones. My blood boiled, my breathing deepened, heat spread through me from nothing more than his gaze; medically speaking I was aroused. And I think he knew it.

"Would you like to remember, Elenore?" he asked huskily.

I should have told him no, I was leaving in no more than a month. I didn't. Instead he saw my answer in my eyes.

"When do you break for dinner?" he asked?

"Six forty-five," I answered. I stared hard at him, trying to remember anything about the charming handsome man. "What is your name?" I asked making him smile as he slid from the booth.

He bent low until his mouth was beside my ear. "John Harrison," he whispered, his breath nearly making me shiver. "Meet me outside the hospital at six forty-five," he said righting himself before leaving the diner.

I stared at the space in front of me surprised, a short laugh escaping me. I took a few deep breaths to slow my breathing, rolling my eyes at how I'd let a man I didn't know effect me. _John Harrison_, I said in my head. I gave the waitress a small smile when she brought my lunch, and then my thoughts drifted back to him. There was something about him – something even then I knew was wrong. But I liked it, I wanted it. And so when I returned to the hospital and six forty five came around I changed out of scrubs and found him sitting on a bench outside the hospital. And when he offered me his hand, I took it.

* * *

_I hadn't planned on this scene being so long, but I was kind of enjoying it; so sex will be next chapter. And I think I'll do a warning for when you get to the sex so that way you can skip over it if you want; my only question is, do you think I would still have to change the rating?  
I'm not sure how I'm portraying this, cause I can't say he's trying to be seductive cause it's all from her POV and she can't tell with him a lot of the time. So I hope it's at least somewhat clear he's trying to seduce her. I will say this, he's not acting like he normally does; but that's strictly because he's trying to charm her cause he needs her for something. So when he doesn't need her anymore he'll act more like in the movie. I hope you guys are still enjoying it._


	4. I want him but we're not right

I won't bore you with the details of our dinner conversation. I don't even think I really remember it; that's how _normal_ it was. At that moment in time I didn't think he was anything more than a regular man, a charming – possibly even devious – man. His eyes threw me for a loop; looking at me they were hot enough to churn my stomach, but they were dark when he looked around us as though someone would come to take him away.

But there was nothing else. He told me he was an engineer, that he designed ships and weapons; I don't know why he told me that, it was one of the first honest things he had ever said. He didn't talk much about his work much, he was more interested in me. He asked me questions forcing me to think, and he sat watching my face closely as I answered. I reveled in the way he looked at me, like I was fascinating, like I was something new he couldn't believe he'd found.

And so when we left the restaurant and he kissed me I let him; trust me when I say I kissed him back, because I was the one who deepened it. He had his hand around the back of my head, his fingers in my hair, pulling my mouth closer. He had soft full lips that dragged against my own, separating my lips for his tongue though it never came. He pulled away, and I wanted more.

I stood staring up at him, breathing deeply, feeling his chest brush against mine as he breathed. He made to kiss me again, bending his head and brushing his lips against mine and pulling away when I raised my chin – knowing I wanted it, and smiling slightly as he looked down at me. There was no darkness in his eyes then, nothing but lust and scorching heat.

He bent his head and put his mouth by my ear. "Do you want to go to your room?" he asked, his voice a low growl; and I honestly felt my stomach drop at how – I think the only word viable enough is sexy – it was. His hands were firm around my back, keeping me pressed against him; I don't know what I had enjoyed more, his mouth or the way he held me – I could feel the strength in his arms, as though nothing would be able to tear me from his grasp. Not even me.

"What if I said no?" I surprised him, I could see it in his furrowed brows when he turned his head to look at me. When he saw that the answer was in fact not no, a smile curled on his lips. I didn't notice then that out of all the smiles I had seen him wear, that was the first one that was genuine.

How could I have possibly noticed, he had grabbed the back of my head crushed his mouth onto mine. The moment our tongues met his grip turned to iron. He locked his arms around my back so tight I could barely breathe, not that I noticed; our tongues were waging war, my arms around his neck. I lost myself in him. And I don't think I ever came back.

There were people staring at us: repulsed, intrigued, impressed, turned on. We were in the middle of a sidewalk looking as though we would rip our clothes and fuck right then. And pardon my language but you need to understand that we never "made love." It was fucking. It was rough and hard, lust-filled and passionate, blinding and painful. And I enjoyed the hell out of it. And if there's one thing out of everything that happened I know as an undeniable fact, it's that he enjoyed the hell out of it too.

It still amazes me how vulnerable he allowed himself to be in those moments, when I knew exactly what he wanted and how he felt. He'd hold my hips or my thighs, pulling me further against him, demanding to be fully inside me – moaning, grunting, crying out with each thrust; littering my skin with his fingerprints. He lost himself in me. There were no thoughts of his "family" of Admiral Marcus, or of even what he planned to do next. In those moments when he was on top of me, or I was on top of him, he was completely mine. And I was his.

You see, it wasn't just this one time or even a few more days before he revealed who he really was. There was an entire month he spent with me, and we shagged and fucked. And we talked too. An entire month he slept at my side, or when I stayed late at the hospital he sat next to me the next day as I slept. A month of showers, of conversations, of sex, of sleeping together, of little touches. A month before he first threatened my life. There's still so much you don't know. But if there's anything you should know before I tell you the bad stuff, that's the month I fell in love with him. And if he was ever capable of it, I think it's when he fell in with me.

* * *

_So I'll go into that month next chapter. Also, I'm thinking this is probably as detailed as I'll get for sex; and I'm sorry for the language. What I'm picturing in my head for them when they have sex, it's not gentle. So they fuck, plain and simple; it's rough and dirty, and hard. And there's just no nice way of saying how I'm imaging it. Also, I've been having trouble with picturing an actress for Ellie (and I'm not fully happy with the actress I have for Letters from the Sky). So I've been thinking about Annabelle Wallis (only problem is she's english), cause I think she's very beautiful. So let me know what you think.  
_


	5. in the darkness I will meet my creators

_Guest: I was kind of picturing her too, except when she was a little younger cause I don't really like her too much now. Though her lips are wrong, they're a little too big for what I'm picturing. I've been picturing Jennifer Morrison, but she was Jim's mom so I can't do her. _

* * *

I was surprised to wake the next morning to him stroking my hair. "You didn't leave," I said softly as I looked up at him.

He smiled looking away. "I fell asleep," he told me. Even then I'd known he'd stayed purposefully, I just hadn't known his intentions at that moment in time. On that morning it made me smile.

"I have to go to the hospital," I told him, honestly wishing I could stay; the bed was warm, he was warm, and his fingers were gentle as they ran through my hair. He unwound his arm from around my back and I slipped from beneath the covers and into the bathroom. It wasn't until I stood in front of the mirror that I noticed the purple dots around my hips; I hadn't even noticed how hard he'd held me, I was too lost in him. I laughed silently and shook my head, wondering what I was doing with a man I didn't know in my bed. At least until I put my watch on and looked at the time. I quickly brushed my teeth and threw my hair up before going to the room and putting on some clothes.

"I'm sorry," I said to him, "I should have been at the hospital ten minutes ago. Can you make sure the door's locked when you leave?" I asked, barely giving him a chance to answer before I pulled on my shoes and left.

That was the day the chief of the hospital assigned me a few patients, explaining he was understaffed and I was already here and the cases were simple. By the time I returned to my room my legs were aching from standing for hours from two back to back surgeries.

"You're still here," I said when I saw him, not entirely unhappy at finding him still in room. He had food.

He smiled slightly. "I thought you might be hungry," he said offering me a carton. "And tired."

My smile was actually genuine, I was starving and exhausted; and he really was very handsome. "Thanks," I said before sitting beside him on the bed and watching the news. He asked how my day was and I told him, and he asked about my surgeries. There aren't many people who care to hear about a surgeon's day if they aren't doctors themselves, there's a lot of medical talk and blood; he always seemed fascinated as he listened to me speak. As he questioned me how I would solve a person's sickness, and as I shot through different ideas – he enjoyed my mind, it was his favorite part of me.

"Why did you stay?" I asked him bluntly after we threw the take out boxes away.

He looked at me with narrowed eyes as though he were searching for something in my face. "Why do you find it so hard to believe that I would?" he asked surprising me.

It was a question I hadn't expected, cause he was right. And I didn't really like how easily he had seen through me. "I'm not really the kind of girl guys go for," I told him honestly, my voice hard.

He smiled before stepping to me. "I must say I find that hard to believe," he said lowly. "I rather like you Elenore."

I wouldn't have admitted it then but hearing his grumbling voice and feeling his scorching eyes made my stomach flip – and quite possibly my heart. "I'm not happy and bubbly," I said looking up at him with hooded eyes. His eyes were blazing, burning me, making it harder to breathe.

"No, you're most certainly not," he grumbled stepping closer until our bodies were pressed together. "You're too smart for that."

I smiled briefly, breathing heavily as desire coursed through me. "That's another reason," I said breathlessly feeling his hands firm on my hips. "Guys don't like when I'm smarter than them."

He smiled as he bent his head down, making me arch my neck so as for a kiss. "I guess it's good that I'm smarter than you," he said leaning forward. He pulled my hips flush against his, pressing himself against proving he was as aroused as I was. He pressed his lips against mine, teasing me with his tongue.

He moved me toward the bed, unbuttoning my pants and pulling them off. "They're fools," he whispered seductively, pushing me onto the bed so I laid with my legs off the edge.

"Why?" I asked staring up at where he stood. My heart only beat faster when he pulled my underwear off. It was almost unbearably agonizing how much I wanted him, at seeing how clearly he wanted me from the way his pants strained.

He proved me right when rid himself of his pants. He spread my legs around him and hovered over me, and I could feel how wet I was from how cold the air was as it touched me. "There isn't a single woman who compares to you," he said as he entered me.

…

I got a call from the front desk saying there had been a complaint about the noise that came from my room the night before. They had a right to complain, John had me nearly screaming almost all that night. I've never had my brains fucked out, but I think that night might be what the saying means.

It was late into the night, after finishing our third time, and I laid on his chest nearly panting; and from the rise and fall of his chest he was tired too – though not nearly as worn out as I was.

He had his fingers running through my hair. "You're sad," he said softly.

I had closed my eyes to sleep when he'd spoken and they'd snapped open. "What?"

"You said you weren't happy or bubbly," he said looking down his chest at me with a small smile on the corners of his mouth. "You're sad and you hide it behind anger, and unkindness."

"How," I asked staring at him amazed. "How can you possibly know that?" Not even Jim knew how sad I was, and yet here this man was able to see it; somehow able to see me.

His brows furrowed as he looked at me. "You have no idea do you?" he asked curiously, and I did no more than stare at him waiting for him to continue. "You're so lost in your sadness you don't know how visible it is."

I was left speechless, not knowing how he could see it when I tried so hard to hide it.

"Trust me when I say it's what I like about you," he said softly, running his hand through my hair once more. "There's no one else like you."

…

I guess I proved that to him, how special I was – and you should know I say that with the utmost contempt, my so called "specialness" is what attracted him to me in the first place, is what led to everything else. I wasn't special, I was a train wreck waiting to happen; a girl so broken after losing too many people she drowned herself in knowledge.

Don't be fooled by him, it was my knowledge he wanted – the things I might know. I won't lie, I loved how much he enjoyed my intelligence. How he looked at me when I sat with charts and a medical book planning on a patient's surgery – a heated look that had our clothes coming off and us in the bed. He made me feel like I mattered, like I was worth something; no one has ever made me feel like that before.

I told him about my mother, how I had watched her, how my father hated me for not being the one to die. I told him about Sarah, how she'd died in a shuttle crash – my trip to the psych ward after me and the other survivors were found. I don't think even Bones knew that, it wasn't in my records. I told him about Jim, how he was the only family I had left. I think it touched him, how I spoke of Jim – John was very big on family, but I'll get that later.

I fell in with John. I can't believe I'm actually saying that, I had always tried so hard not to care about people. But he told me about his family, how they were taken away from him; how he'd do anything to get them back. I knew he loved them, I never doubted that and you shouldn't either. Because all he ever did was for his family, because he wanted them back. And after losing everyone I loved but Jim, I don't think I could ever hate him for what he did out of love for them. Even if that meant hurting me.


	6. and they will all agree

_Lola: thank you very much, I'm so glad to hear you like my writing for it since it's so much different than what I normally do. I hope it's still good this chapter since it's been awhile since I've written in first person._

* * *

I didn't notice it at first, I didn't pay much mind to his little questions.

"Do you know anything about Thomas Harewood?" he asked me one day while I was looking through a medical book, still trying to solve the same patient's case. And in all honesty if you're trying to get information out of me and me not realize your intentions, that's just about the only time – I guess it shows how well he knew me.

"Name sounds familiar," I told him absentmindedly, not really thinking about it as I read through a passage I'd read just about a hundred times before.

"Maybe a relative then," he said, his tone nonchalant and very convincingly uncaring.

That was when I thought about it, cause I did know that name – at least the last name. "Lucille Harewood?" I asked looking at him for confirmation, he only shrugged.

"I don't know, who's Lucille?" he asked.

I thought about a case file I'd read, trying to picture the words on my padd as I'd read them. "Age nine, daughter of," I paused as I remembered the names, "Rima and Thomas Harewood," I finished looking at him, seeing his eyes were narrowed as he watched me. "Terminally ill, in a coma, I couldn't find much else to try for her so I passed the case on. Does that answer anything?" I asked looking back to my book.

"Yes it does," he said, and me so caught up in a book I didn't see the gleam in his eye.

"Why'd you wanna know?" I asked, no longer really paying him any mind. He could have given me some bogus lie and I would have nodded and said, 'that's nice.'

"I work under him and heard him talking about going to the hospital," he said with a shrug as he flipped through different channels, no longer caring about our conversation either.

See, there was nothing to raise a red flag at how he asked about Thomas, at getting information about his daughter; nothing suspicious. It wasn't me being easily fooled, or too distracted, or too stupid to catch on.

Okay that was a lie, I was too distracted to catch what I was supposed to. You see, John told me he was an engineer who designed ships and weapons. Thomas Harewood was a Starfleet officer who worked in an archive, he worked at a place where people went to read. I didn't catch that, I was distracted, and when I wasn't distracted he'd been so offhand about it that it had completely slipped my mind. And he didn't act any different after either, he still slept beside me when I wasn't at the hospital or sat with me watching the news as I studied or even joined me in the shower before I'd leave, however when he spoke of it again I remembered completely our conversation. And even then a red flag didn't go off.

"Has there been a change with Lucille Harewood?" he'd asked one day after he returned to the room, sometimes having been gone when I returned – it had startled me at first, and as embarrassing as it is to admit this, I had been afraid he'd left. But he'd come back, knocking on the door and asking if he could stay – I'd hidden my relief, I know I did because I wouldn't dare let that show, not when I hardly knew him. And yet he'd seen it, cause the moment he'd walked through the door he was taking my clothes off.

And so on that day I had assumed he returned from his work. "Thomas Harewood's daughter?" I asked.

He smiled at that, brushing my hair out of my face fondly. "You really do remember everything," he said staring hard at me. "And yes, Thomas Harewood's daughter."

I looked at him weirdly, finding it strange he was asking about her again. "Not that I know of. Her file said it was incurable," I told him.

And as though he sensed my growing suspicions he nodded before speaking, and squashing them right in the bud. "I saw him at his desk crying," he said softly, his voice one of sadness. "I guess you answered why."

"Yeah," I said looking at his handsome face, remembering how he spoke of his family. He looked up at me and I gave him a small smile, seeing the corners of his mouth curl slightly before he leaned forward and kissed me. There was no passion in it, no heat that had our clothes practically pulling themselves off; it was light, and sweet, and it made my heart melt at the tenderness behind it. And again, I missed the sign that was so clear – I knew, I _knew_ Harewood worked at an archive it was in Lucille's file. Be it my mind suppressing the knowledge in the face of my feelings for him, or the distractions of those feelings, I still didn't catch it.

He was being sweet, and gentle, and I honestly loved those moments with him; they were why I was falling in love, whether I knew it then or not. The sweetest I'd ever seen him is after we had sex, in the quiet moments as we laid naked together on the bed, the sheets half covering us and my heart racing from the exertion. He'd normally pull me to his chest, running his fingers through my hair, or along my back, listening to my breathing – maybe even my heart. And we'd talk, about nothing, about everything.

On one of those nights, after I'd fallen asleep, I was woken by a flash of bright light. "It's only a thunderstorm," he told me gently when I startled awake.

"I used to love thunderstorms when I was a kid," I told him sleepily. "Jim and I would sit on the roof and watch the thunder clouds rolling in, seeing the lightening strike. In hindsight we're lucky we didn't get struck."

I felt his chuckle rumble in his chest beneath my ear. "I take it you both liked thrills," he said amused.

"Yeah," I said smiling, it was before my mom had died; some of my best memories. "He always took it far, he took everything too far." I remembered all the fights with other boys, with my father livid and red faced as he told Jim he was worthless, of Jim's mother doing nothing.

"What happens when you get struck by lightening?" he asked, drawing me out of my sad reverie; I realize now how much him doing that meant, it meant he cared about me, in some little way.

"A lot of things," I answered, my mind now turning to all I had read about the victims of lightening strikes. "Burns, minor or major, heart palpitations, heart attack, a lot different brain damages. Some people lose certain senses based on the part of the brain that was effected. I knew a girl once who couldn't see the color red."

"They couldn't fix it?" he asked, interest laced in his voice. Whether or not it was genuine I didn't know.

"Parents couldn't afford it, and then there was the going in and rewiring her brain that made it risky. I mean the current from the lightening probably fried something in that part of her brain," I said trailing off as I stilled.

"Is something wrong?" he asked looking at me as I sat up.

I shook my head too excited. "Electrical currents can alter synapses," I said looking at him wide eyed. "God I'm an idiot, how did I miss this?"

"It's the middle of the night, where are you going?" he asked with a smile as he pulled me to him, tugging the pants I had half put on back off.

"I know how to rewire his brain," I told him amazed, finding this amazing though he didn't. "I did it, I figured out."

He looked at me questioningly. "You plan to electrocute him?"

"Yeah," I answered as though it were obvious, too excited I'd finally figured it out to care. "In small increments and doses so we don't completely alter his neurons and synapses. I mean it's still pretty much a trialed method but it could work, and if it doesn't I mean he's probably gonna die anyways."

I could always see it amazed him at how casual I was speaking of death, something that always turned the corners of his mouth up. I didn't notice that night.

"And it may even rejuvenate the cells that have deteriorated," I finished standing again and pushing my hair back as reached once more for my pants.

"Elenore," he said calling me back to him. I followed his eyes to the clock to see it was only 2:45 and I sighed as I sat back on the bed. "Come here," he said pulling me to him, laying me over him as he pressed against me. "Tell me again why this is the answer," he told me, his eyes beginning to heat. And they grew hotter as I repeated myself, adding things that came to mind that also helped my case. In the end he pulled my leg over his waist so I straddled him, something he did not do very often, and we fucked; hard and loud.

I'd like to tell you that was it, that I went to the hospital with my findings, spending the morning doing research to further prove my method, and then Dr. Phillips reluctantly agreeing and we saved the patient and I went back to the Starfleet base in America where Jim greeted me with a big hug and an even bigger smile when he saw me. I'd like more than anything to tell you that, it would mean nothing else that followed happened. But I can't.

"When are you leaving?" John asked the second night after the surgery, the day the patient started to show progress.

I laid against him, warm and secure in his arms as he held me; something no man had ever made me feel before. "The morning after tomorrow," I told him softly, honestly not happy at the idea of not seeing him again. "They'll continue to monitor his progress and they'll take it from there, our work is done."

He laid beneath me silently, running his fingers up and down my spine. "Do you want to leave?" he asked surprising me. He looked down at me, his eyes sincere and pleading; and I thought about it, honestly thought about whether I wanted to or not. And other than Jim, the only answer I could find was no. And he saw that in my eyes, in my inability to answer him. So he kissed me, soft and sweet. "Stay with me," he mumbled against my lips, asking me the one thing I had wanted him to. Cause it meant it cared, that he wanted me to stay as much as I did, that he didn't think he could to sleep when I wasn't in his arms like I did. And so I stayed. And oh how I was wrong.

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_So next chapter will have him being his evil self, and I'm actually kind of excited for it. I'm also very sorry for how long this took to update, I kind of lost the inspiration for it. However, I can tell you all that I am more inspired when I get reviews. So if you're still interested let me know, and I'll try to update more often. _


	7. that I'm a suffocator

"I don't understand why you're staying," Jim said angrily on the other end of the communticator. "We just got a mission, I know you heard about it."

I could do nothing but sigh unhappily as I sat on the bed, knowing he wouldn't take it well. "There's more opportunties for me here."

"Like what?" he demanded, nearly yelling.

"I don't know Jim," I yelled back, feeling tears burning my eyes, wishing I could see him. "There's better cases, more room for me to further my education so I can settle into a field."

I heard Jim scoff on the other line. "That's bullshit and you know it," he told me bitterly. "Chief Sullivan has been looking at you to replace her when she retires. Your opportunity is here, Ellie. You're just running away like you always do."

I sat on the bed staring at the wall as I tried to clear my throat of my tears, refusing to let him know I was crying; knowing he would feel guilty and then apologize. But he was right, I was running away; and it's not like I could tell him I was choosing a guy I barely knew over him. And all of that made it so much more harder to not cry.

"Yeah," Jim said nearly spitting, "I thought so." And even then I could say nothing, fueling his anger. "There's a meeting Spock and I have to go to before we leave," he said harshly before turning off his communicator; leaving me still holding mine to my ear as though he would come back and tell me it was okay, he would give me time to see that my place was with him on the Enterprise, and that he'd call me later. But of course he couldn't, and even then he wouldn't have. But that small, stupid, part of me still hoped for it.

In the end it was John who took the communicator out of my hand and turned it off, I hadn't even known he'd come back to the room. "Are you alright Elenore?" he asked softly as he looked down at me.

I sniffed and scratched my nose, blinking away all tears that threatened to fall. "Of course," I told him with a fake smile, under no circumstance would I ever be willing to cry in front of him. "Are you ready for dinner?" I asked before wrapping the scarf he'd given me around my neck and grabbing my bag. Though when I turned to look at him I could see on his face he wasn't buying it, nor would he let it go.

"You told me of your mother," he said shocking me. "How she died, how you watched her die. And of your father, though it took more prodding for you to open up about him. And then Sarah, but I just about had to force that one out of you." He said all of this while watching me closely, his blue eyes narrowed as he stared at my surprised face.

"What's your point?" I asked him softly, not seeing one.

He stepped closer to me, forcing my head back so I could see his face. "My point," he said lowly, tucking my hair behind my ear, "is not once did you show any sign of tears. But your cousin, who is alive and well with no threat of danger, yells at you and now you're fighting not to cry. Why is that?"

I did nothing more than stare up at him, giving him no answer though he had asked for one. But in the end, by that point, I guess he knew well enough to already know. I didn't even have to answer.

"You really have no one else, do you?" he whispered, running his thumb over my cheek gently. I could do no more than shake my head, realizing just how alone I was in England; Jim in America soon to be lightyears away. Cold seeped under my skin when John stepped away, grabbing the coat I hadn't known he'd taken off - he had been there quite some time cause he'd known Jim had yelled at me, which meant he had heard him. "That isn't entirely true," he said nonchalantly as he did the buttons, turning to me as he opened the door. "We're having indian," he told me as I walked out of the door.

And that was that. He had just said that Jim wasn't the only person I had, admitting that I now had him, but he masked it with flippancy and a wild change in the conversation. But it made me smile softly anyways, and when I looked up at him in the elevator to meet his eyes the corners of his mouth curled before he turned his eyes away. And it made my smile grow a little more, a warmth spreading in my chest as I stood beside him feeling his hand burning against my back. But it was nothing compared to the fire that blazed in my blood, scorching me from within, when he pressed his lips against my temple before stepping out of the lift; leaving me to follow after him. And in that moment, my chest flushed and my heart racing, I would have followed him anywhere.

...

It was a few weeks later that the metephorcal shit hit the fan, and even then it wasn't an explosion of every warning sign I had missed. It was almost like he had eased me into it. He asked me little questions such as; "What would you be willing to do for Jim?" to which my only answer was anything. And that led to, "would you kill for him?"

How was I supposed to answer that, I could barely even think of what I was willing to do, let alone they were very strange and off putting questions; and I may have noticed the strangeness if he had not spread it out over days, and he only asked in one of his his quiet moments - and lord he had many of them where he retreated into his mind, wheels turning and plans being formed. And I would never have guessed it all had revolved around what he would do with me.

"I suppose," was all I had answered him; seeing the dissatisfaction on his face that I did not say more, that I did not swear I would kill anyone or anything for the only person I loved. And even then, disappointment only slight in his eyes, I knew he could see on my face that I would. Which was why one night he had asked me, with precise hesitation in his voice: "what would you do if I told you I had killed for my family?"

He had asked it as we laid together before sleep, the simple quiet moments where we'd either talk or just lay in the other's company. It had shocked me, stunned me speechless for a few minutes, and he just laid beside me waiting for me to respond. "Have you?" was all I could ask, even before he told me I knew he had - it was in his eyes, it was where his darkness had come from. And so I fought to say something, anything really; what could I say, was it recent. Did I know you then? I mean that might have gotten me killed, if you want to look at it logically. But in all honesty, that wasn't really what I was thinking. I don't know why, perhaps the sadness in his voice or my own feelings for him, but I asked "Did it make a difference?"

"No."

That one word changed everything. It took away all my panic, all the blaring warning signs that there was something wrong with this. The way his voice wrapped around that single syllable was so wrought with sadness and failure and regret that I could do nothing more than realize this was a man who had done everything he could for his family, only to be faced with his inability to. And so I did the only thing I could do, apologies meaning nothing, I turned and laid my head against his chest. It surprised him, I could tell from how he hesitated before wrapping his arm around me - but I didn't see the small curl of his lips, the gleam in his eye as he realized I was completely his. Call me stupid or gullible, but I bought every ounce of emotion I heard. I still do. And I think that was the moment I actually realized I was in love with him, cause it didn't turn me away from him like it should have. It didn't make me afraid he was the "bad guy" like you probably think he was. In that moment, hearing the ageless sadness in his voice, I thought he was just as broken as I was. For all my suffering and all my loss and pain, I still had Jim. He didn't have anyone.

I only realize now that may have been one of the reasons he liked me so much, why I was so different from all the other "ordinary" humans. Of all the billions of people in the world, and the even more vast number in the galaxy, there was only one person I called family. Only one who called me family. That meant something to him. I didn't realize it had meant everything.

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_So this was technically the start of the movie. The mission was Nibiru, saving the planet from the volcano, and then after before Kirk and Spock were yelled at by Pike. So next chapter will be John showing his true colors. I hope you all are still liking it._


	8. I should go now quietly

_Guest: thank you so much, I was so glad to see that it was you. I'm also really glad that you are liking the story, it means I can do more than write for the Hobbit. As well as how I'm doing first person, cause it's completely new to me. And it's a different kind of story, one that's very personal with the character. And I've written over forty chapters to my star trek fic, which is this character, so I think that's helped in me getting deep down and personal with her feelings and being able to get inside her head. So I was so happy to hear that you're liking it, thanks again._

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I think I knew something was wrong before it happened. Maybe all the warning signs I had been supprsessing were finally forcing their way known, maybe I could sense a change in him that I knew was off. But have you ever gotten that feeling that something was just not right, that something was about to end; that sick twist in your stomach of nerves or anticipation? That's what I felt. So that when everything finally did come crashing down I was shocked, but I was not floored. As though a part of me had been waiting for the big ta-da, the punchline, for reality to settle. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach, and even then I tried to ignore it.

It was a conversation, a single conversation that destroyed everything, and made it all clear. It was after the Enterprise had returned from her mission, Scotty having been the one to tell me since Jim was not speaking to me. Sometimes I don't know what I would have done without Scotty, he was my closest friend; the only one who seemed to understand why I had stayed, or at least not to blame me for it. I think Bones would have too, but he wasn't speaking to me either. The only person I had to offer no judgement, to not side with Captain James Tiberius Kirk, was John. I should have known that was a mistake, to be in a position where a man can rule over you; and I was never the kind of girl who people loved. I should have known from the beginning that I was only a ploy, only followng his plot.

Not much begging was in order for the chief of the hospital to let me stay, I was a promising young surgeon with a bright future ahead; he would be lucky to have me stay, at least that's what he said. And that settled it, I was given a position in the hospital. That was my post, my station; if you really knew me then you know that I loved being there more than anywhere else. I was a "cutter", as some called it. A surgical junky. It was my high and I needed it to survive - something John knew, found to be an amazing thing about me, that I was so focused so driven.

So when he told me, "You should request a transfer to Royal Children's Hospital," that was the moment when things began crashing. When my walls of refusal could not contain the warning signals about him any longer. This is the point in old movies where the woman gives a confused smile and a breathy laugh and asked what the handsome strange man is talking about, still hanging on to whatever illusion she has built around herself. An illusion similar to mine. But I have never been like most women.

_Lucille Harewood,_ my mind raged. _Thomas Harewood, archive, John, engineer, would you kill for him, what would you do if I told you I had killed for my family, stay with me, warning, warning._ I felt a steel rod implant in my spine, sitting me stock straight as I pretended to continue reading through my book. I fooled no one. "Why is that?" I asked simply. Innocently; still trying for the nonchalant everything is fine act. My eyes flicked to the door, not even ten feet. John less than two as he laid on the bed I was sitting on the edge of.

"To take on Lucille Harewood as your patient," he told me easily, as though it were obvious. Only it was now becoming painfully obvious that I had missed everything, that I had been naive and blind. That I had blinded myself.

"Again," I said, my voice suprisingly even, "why is that?" I would make him answer me, he would tell me everything. I suppose it was then I just assumed he was not the person I had thought he was, had hoped he was. There was no benefit of the doubt, there never was with me. And so my body tensed on its own when he moved a fraction of an inch, the animal in me knownig the threat of danger and I was already lunging for the door.

I never stood a chance. "Oh come now Elenore," he laughed as he wrapped his arms around my waist, his voice dark and lethal, "you're too smart to believe you could actually escape."

I was left face to face to him, my chest heaving against his, his eyes more dangerous than they ever had been; and yet that look, you know the one - he looks at you so above you, so much better than you, I was nothing but an ant between his foot and the ground - those eyes were so familiar, because though I had never stared into them before I had seen that look hundreds of times when he stared at the people around us. But now those eyes were on me, and I could see past the facade he'd carved to the sinister maliciousness beneath. If I was any other woman, if I was not me, I would have trembled. I would have wept and begged him for my life, which I don't doubt would have been my death sentence. But I was strong, or so I told myself, so I stared at him defiantly and told him, "no."

His smile was dangerous, a slit on his handsome face it could not have been more gruesome had blood been pouring out. It was a smile that would haunt my dreams, wake me with a strangled scream and a chilled sweat. "Do you truly believe you have a choice?" he questioned, his eyes narrowed as he stared hard at my face, which I was sure was pale though it held firm. His arms were a lock around my back, my obedience the key if I was either smart or cowardly enough to do as he said.

"It makes no difference, I won't do it," I told him. I was stubborn, and his smile grew as his hand wound in my hair and pulled it so my throat was vulnerably exposed as I looked up at him.

"You should have screamed by now," he said softly, his voice a deep grumble I felt along my spine. What once had aroused me now brought me fear. "You know I will sooner kill you than let you go," he said tightening his arm like a coil, fisting my hair so he nearly pulled it out. "Then you are well aware that I am not asking."

This would be the point where the "bad guy" threatens the woman, maybe even assaults her in some way. He says things, horrifying things, to make her understand that should she act against him the consequences would be severe. But this was not one of the movies Jim and liked to watch and laugh about their ideas of the future. John said nothing, and his wordless threat might have scared me all the more. There were no words for what he could do to me, no string for a sentence for the endless possibilities - at least in my mind. But what I wanted to know more, what I needed to know more, was how could I have been fooled for so long. I was smart, intelligent, all my teachers and professors and collegues told me so. I should have known, I should have seen it or at least to have seen something coming, something to attest for all the intelligence I was said to have.

But like any woman blinded by what she believed to be love, I saw all of it and chose not to realize. I made the decision to believe the lie he wanted me to, the lie that I wanted me to believe. I let him take my heart, my loyalty, my morals, my life. I was not prepared for him. I did not know to fear the very thing that I had come to love.

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_So I'm trying something a bit new with my writing, I'm trying to make it a bit more poetic. So it's in the sense of how I word things, it's more illustrated, more ellaborate. Only I don't really know how I'm doing with it. So feedback would be amazing. Also, I'm so excited for him to now be fully honest with her about who he is, or at least to show her his true face. _


	9. for my bones have found a place

"I must say Dr. Davis, it's quite a surprise to hear you make that request," the chief of the hospital said pleasantly, almost suspiciously. It was surprising, at least for me; you'd have to know me to understand but, children aren't my thing.

"I know," I told him uncomfortably, feighing uncertainty rather than fear that I needed him to say yes. "A blind leap I guess." I offered a shrug, a light laugh. What else could I give him, I didn't want to work in a children's hospital where I wouldn't just lose a patient I'd end the life of a child. I didn't want any of this. I wanted to go home. I wanted Jim. I couldn't have any of it.

The chief sighed. "A blind leap got me here, I suppose I can't say no," he told me, making me smile and try not to sigh out of relief - talk about suspicious, no one wants to deal with kids _that_ bad.

"Thank you sir," I told him, flashing him a bright smile that couldn't have been more fake had I tried. And thank god he bought it. "I'm sorry to not work under you. It was really a pleasure." That was true, I don't guess you really care though. But he was nice, and fair, and let me do a number of really cool surgeries you just would have had to see to understand the amazingnes off them.

"I enjoyed having you," he said opening the door to his office. "If you discover it isn't the place for you, your position here will still stand."

I smiled at him, a slight upturn of my mouth - a smile that was actually real. I was touched he had liked me that much, that didn't happen often. "Thank you." I was not happy when I walked out of his door, knowing it would be the last I did so, wondering just how long I had before John had all he wanted from me; and what it would mean when he was done. The obvious answer was he would kill me. But it was when I thought of him maybe not killing me, cause everything that had happened the month before - the touches, the kisses, the little moments where he made me laugh - they couldn't have all been a lie. But that was the problem, the more I looked at him and saw the dark look in his eye, I couldn't help but think that he had lied. About everything. And I had never felt so empty, so alone. There was no Jim to comfort me, no Jim to stand at my side so I wouldn't be so scared cause he was right there holding my hand, no Jim to save me from all of this. I would die and never see him again. I would die, and he was mad at me; and he'd hate himself. And it was my fault, it was always my fault.

I don't want you to feel sorry for me, I don't expect you to when I tell you more of what happened; of what I did. I just want you know why I continued to challenge John, to refuse him. It was because I gave up I guess. I accepted that he'd kill me, at some point, after enough had happened. I think I enjoyed it, shocking him with my audacity, my will to not break like he wanted me to. I think he might have too.

"When do you start?" John asked the moment I walked into my room, sitting on my bed reading a newsletter.

I threw my bag on the floor, loud enough he lowered the paper to look at me with a brow raised. "Can you take this off me now?" I asked, a little rudely I admit, as I held my arm out.

"Why would I do that?" he asked standing, the paper forgotten on the bed as he walked toward me. "I hear everything you say, have readings of all of your vitals. I hold your life in my hand with only the push of a button. Why ever would I want to take it off?"

I stared up at him, seeing the amusement and the victory in his eyes at knowing I'd do everything he said. I could still felt the sharp prick in my wrist when he'd put the tracker on me - it was a little green circle, no bigger than a small coin, and yet pushing the button he had in his possession would send poison into my bloodstream killing me in seconds - seconds he had told me would be very painful. Or explode if I tried to take it off. You know, the usual.

I wanted to flinch away from him when he stopped behind me, his nose in my hair and his mouth by ear. "When do you start?" his voice rumbled again, making it all but impossible not to cringe from the way his words rubbed against my ear.

"Two days," I grit out. I convinced myself that I could do nothing, I had to what he said to stay alive - I was still holding onto my life in a way only a human could, trust me I knew a Vulcan; this was strictly human - above all else, I didn't want to die.

I could nearly feel him rolling his eyes as he sighed, his hands wrapping around my waist and holding me firm. "Don't be fickle, Elenore," he hummed displeased. "You enjoyed this, admit it."

I wouldn't, not then. Then, he revolted me. I hated him. I wanted him dead. Well, I'm not quite sure about that last one, but I'd like to think I had as least in that moment been like any other girl. I hated him. I squirmed in his grasp, tried to pull my arms out of his hands when he grabbed them. My strength was nothing compared to his, my hands were nothing when his had me locked in their grip.

I stilled, breathing heavily, my wrists caught in one of his hands, the other firm around my breast. Each inhale pushed my breast further against his hand; he had always known just how to hold me. Any other time I may have smiled, had turned to him for a kiss because this was obviously leading to sex. I didn't know what this, at this moment, was leading to. My heart pounded with fear, my air ran short no matter how I sucked it in, my eyes felt swollen from the tears of my own emotion.

"Do you remember this?" he whispered softly into my ear, his mouth brushing against my skin. "Have you already forgotten me?"

My answer was clear though I said nothing, I didn't move in his arms; I didn't try to get away, I didn't melt into him like I had before. I stood immobile staring ahead as I breathed, and that was all of an answer he needed.

"Take a shower," he muttered pushing me away, almost falling if I hadn't caught my balance.

With pleasure I lunged for the bathroom and waited for the door to slide shut so I could lock it. It wasn't until I turned the shower on, sitting on the counter with my wrist between my clenched thighs so he might not hear, that I allowed myself to lose it. For the record, I didn't cry. I almost did. I just sat there breathing deeply, feeling tears burning in my throat, as I wondered what I was supposed to do.

I have to admit something. I wasn't completely honest with you. You see, my heart didn't just pound with fear when held me, but also with anticipation. My breathing didn't just deepen because I was scared, I didn't want to cry because of the horror of him. There was a little handheld monitor that gave him my vitals during the day, recorded things like my heartrate, my blood pressure, the hormones in my blood. I knew before he looked at it what hormones had been in my blood, _were_ still raging through my body - I did remember it. I had wanted it, had been aroused. I think that's why I was trying not to cry, because I was ashamed. My body remembered him, my mind remembered him, all of me knew the pleasure he could give. And as a doctor I know it was a natural reaction. But as a person.

I don't know how long I sat wallowing in self hatred, long enough he'd grown tired of it; or concerned, but who really knows. I looked up startled when he tried to open the door, which could not be opened unless I on this side of it unlocked it. "Open the door, Elenore," he ordered loud enough for me to barely hear and even then I could hear the lividity in his voice. I didn't answer him, knowing it would only fuel the fire. "Open the door, Elenore!" he roared.

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_In advance: there will be angry sex next chapter, I do not know how detailed I will be going with it. So there's a possibility this might be M next chapter. I hope everyone is still enjoying the story. But from the lack of reviews last chapter I can only assume that's a no. So, are you guys still enjoying the story? If not then I'll just scrap it completely. So please let me know._


	10. to lie down and sleep

_Marianamr: thank you so very much, your review really meant a lot to me. I try to write stories that are different, or else why write the same thing everyone else does I can just read theirs. So thank you for mentioning that it's different, cause I try to be original. The first person was very off putting to me as well, cause I've never done it - but I wanted to try something new, so I'm so glad to hear that you ended up liking it. Thank you again. _

_Guest: thank you very much, I'm glad you're liking it; and my take on him cause he's a hard character to do justice._

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I stared at the door with wide eyes, my hair dry and my body still clothed, the shower running as it had been. As quietly as I could I slipped off the counter and out of my shoes. "I'm in the shower," I called as I silently pulled my uniform off my shoulders, sliding the shower door open slowly

"Open the door," he growled.

I jumped at the sound of his hand hitting the door, looking at my watch to see I had been in here over an hour. And I honestly hadn't known if he'd tried talking to me before, I hadn't paid him any attention if he had. I pushed the shower door open not caring if it made noise cause now I was stepping in, wetting my hair quickly and reaching for the button to unlock the door. I didn't know if he would believe I had been in the shower the entire time and had just chosen to ignore him, but that was what I was going with. I leaned back into the water and finished wetting my hair after I'd pushed the button, now completely wet, and it possibly being believable that I wasn't just hiding from him cause I'd lied.

I had barely heard the door to the bathroom sliding open before he had me against the wall, holding my arms as I tried to push him off me. "You said you started in two days," he said nearly yelling, pushing against me to hold me still.

I stopped struggling no longer able to move anything but my head, and even then his face was lowered to mine keeping me staring up at him. I said nothing, even if I wanted to fear had sewn my mouth shut - his eyes were livid, his mouth turned down in a scowl and his hands tightening around my arms until it hurt. He was infuriated, I had managed to trick him - I had done as much as I could to muffle the tracker on my wrist, a bracelet, a long sleeved shirt folded so it settled over the green circle, and then a jacket on top of that. He hadn't heard when I would start, I don't think he'd heard much of anything after I had gotten the chief's approval - and that had been my plan, given him enough to be satisfied. I had pulled my jacket on, righted the bracelet over it, and asked when I would start. So when I returned to my room and John had asked my start date I knew he hadn't heard, and so I had lied hoping for a plan.

But I had underestimated the tracker he had put on my wrist, and that he'd heard my muffled talking and had gone back and listened closer to decipher the words, discovering what I had hidden from him; I only learned that later.

"Very clever girl," he muttered, his eyes showing me he was anything but pleased by that. "What did you plan to do with those five days? You think I wouldn't have figured it out?" he demanded pushing even closer to me, even the air I breathed was his, so close he was.

In all honesty I hadn't thought that far ahead, I had only thought far enough to get five extra days away from him. I realized then it was stupid, he would have known I wasn't at the hospital during the first day after I'd left the room; I don't know what I would have done. But that had never been the point, I just wanted to get away from him, just a moment to figure things out and to see if there was a way I could escape from this alive.

"What would you have done?" he asked again, his voice lowering in fury, his hands wrapping tighter around my arms until I could feel the bones shift beneath my skin - it hurt. "Answer me!" he roared making me recoil in fright.

I don't think telling you might heart was pounding is enough for you to realize just how scared I was. I was completely naked, cornered by what I now knew was a murderer - he had admitted it a week ago though I hadn't paid heed - his entire body pressed against my shivering one, his arms holding me too tight not to break me, and his rage rolled off him in waves and I was drowning. I was terrified. Fear makes you irrational, takes your common sense and your conscious and it pushes them away so it can make it you do what it thinks is best; or in my case, it just makes you crazy.

"Why are you so interested in the Harewoods?" I asked, my voice surprisingly not shaking as horribly as my spine - though I won't kid you, my fear could be heard in it. "It's a public archive, you wouldn't need me to get in. There's more."

His mouth curled into a smile, there was nothing friendly in it. He looked the part of a predator, danger in his eyes, calamity in his smile; and here I was, his prey. "You want to know why," he said, somehow pressing even closer, his clothes soaked completely through though he seemed not to notice. "Is that all?"

It wasn't of course, I wanted him to let me go and to know that I would be safe again. I wanted to go home. But I knew saying any of that would get me nowhere with him. And so I nodded, and I said: "I want you to tell me, and then I want you to take this off," holding my wrist out.

His sick sardonic smile twisted wider as he stared hard at me. "And trust you not to run away?" he asked, his voice a soft purr in obvious amusement.

"You don't think your reason is enough for me not to?" I challenged, cause what could possibly be a good reason for holding someone captive against their will, to manipulate them and get them to trust you.

He gave a short laugh shaking his head, his hands loosening enough that blood could once more reach my fingers. "I'll consider it," was his answer, which wasn't much of an answer at all. "What would you like to know?"

I wondered then if he would lie to me, cause who knew how long he'd been lying; or if anything he'd said had been true. I guess what I really needed to know is how much had been the truth before this point, so that I could prepared for how much he'd tell me would be a lie. I couldn't very well ask him if he had actually felt anything, I could practicaly see the condescending smile and the irritation in his eye; but that was what I needed to know.

I tell you this in the hope that you understand what happened next, why I did what I did. I needed answers, I needed a way to ask without saying the words. And in all honesty, I think I just needed him. He had made me feel like I mattered, and no one else ever made me feel like that - like I actually meant something. So how could what he was doing possibly be so bad if I still liked him so much, it couldn't. There was a reason, a good and justifiable one that would explain everything. One that meant there wasn't just something wrong with me for still loving him. Or maybe I was just crazy. But I guess I'll just tell you, and let you decide.

He stared down at me, pinning me against the wall, waiting for me to speak. He had pushed himself so close that all I had to do was raise my chin, and it was only seconds after that he kissed me back. And that was my answer, not everything had been a lie - there had been some truth. I wish I could tell you there was nothing more, that that was all of the answer I was given and then he told me why and it changed everything. I guess I could tell you that, but it'd be a lie.

We fucked, right there in the shower. I think the moment he stepped into the bathroom and pinned me to the wall it had been leading to us screwing. The moment he released my arms I was pulling his shirt over his head, his hands grabbing my waist and lifting me onto his hips. He took me in the shower, on the floor, in the bed; we fucked just about all night, and there was nothing gentle about it. In the light of the morning I would see the scratches on his back, the fingerprints on my skin. That morning changed almost everything. I think it's when I truly lost myself.


	11. where all my layers can become reeds

When dawn broke I could almost pretend as though it had all been a dream, that John was still the man who'd asked me to stay only because he cared about me and not because he wanted to use me. My head on his chest, his arm around my back his fingers dancing along my spine, the warmth of him I had come to know for weeks and was now so common and so secure had me fooled. I could almost pretend. Almost.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, his voice a low grumble offering no threat.

I was pulled out of my reverie, forced to return to the reality I wanted so much to forget. I knew enough about him to know I would not be given a direct answer, he liked to watch me think and so he'd give me just enough to take minutes, sometimes over an hour, to figure something out; and he always asked for me to think out loud. And so I knew enough that I couldn't ask him the obvious - why me, why won't you let me go, what do you plan to do with me and what happens when I'm finished - all the average questions a normal selfish human would ask. What I didn't know enough of was what he needed me _for_ - Thomas Harewood worked in a

"Think out loud, Elenore," he said quietly, almost sleepily as he laid still running his hand along my back. I had been quiet too long, I should have demanded answers the moment he first asked.

"You want me to get to Lucille," I said softly, practically feeling him smile. "That'll give you an in to Thomas Harewood." And that solved why he wanted me, why he was still using me, and how long he would use me for; there was no reason to ask for any of that, I had already figured that out. "Thomas Harewood works in a public archive," I continued, this being the wall I could not yet climb over. "Records, historical documents, things anyone can go in and see." What I didn't say was that it made no sense why he needed an in, it was open to the public by default he already had one. I could feel in his tense arms, his deliberate slow breathing he was waiting as patiently as he could for me to speak. But it didn't make any sense why he wanted Thomas Harewood, not when all he did was keep track of documents that anyone could go see. "It isn't an archive."

I knew without him speaking I was right, it was the only reason that made sense. His fingers trailed the length of back and wound in my hair, his cheek pressed against the top of my head. It was gentle, intimate. None before had held me in such a way, as though the feel of me against them mattered; but he was holding me against my will, using me for a purpose he hadn't yet explained. I lay in the arms of a murderer, but all he did was breathe softly and I forgot it a little bit. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice laced with pleasure.

"It wouldn't be the first time Starfleet disguised something they wanted to keep hidden," I answered, now stuck against the wall of what it was if not an archive. "Is that where you worked?" I asked, having many ideas and all of them crazier and stupider than the last; and so I went about trying to fit tiny pieces of information John had given - such as his being an engineer, designing ships and weapons.

"No," he answered, a smile in his voice.

I sighed when he said nothing else, not expecting him to though I'd hoped he would. And so I was left to think, to pull thoughts from the span of my mind and see if they fit well enough to say; and I only chose the best. I think I knew then he needed to see I was intelligent, even when I knew nothing; that it was my thoughts he was so intrigued by - what kept me alive far longer than either of us had anticipated. "Is the man you work for the one who runs it?"

The moment I felt his body tense I knew I had hit on something important, but I wasn't any closer to what because he had never said who he worked for, or even what branch he worked under. I had nothing else to go on, except that answers lay in the man John took orders from. "That will be all until you get in Lucille's room," he said unwinding his arms from around my back.

And even then, the edge in his voice that signalled a threat, I sat up and looked down at him irritated. If he would just answer my questions everything would be easier, I would willingly help him cause he had to have a good reason for doing this - at least so I told myself. "What is it exactly you're doing?" I asked. Well, actually I demanded.

He rolled his eyes at my simplicity as though it grieved him, something that got under my skin and made my blood boil. "Get me what I want and I'll tell you more," he answered, his voice final and his eyes hard.

I wanted to leave, I wanted him to take this tracker off my arm, I wanted to go home; and he was giving me nothing. It wasn't good enough. "There isn't a reason," I said, his eyes freezing and my blood should have frozen with it - I should have been afraid of him, and a part of me was, but at that moment I honestly didn't like him, "as least not one I would agree with." His eyes were cold, dangerous with abhorrence, his face a mask of absolute nothing and showing no more emotion than a stone. "Good to know," I muttered before standing, not caring I was completely bare as I walked to the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, obviously not wanting me out of his sight. It was then I think he realized the extent of a mistake I was, the factor he could control just enough to keep me but not enough to follow him blindly. I think my will to act against him, even in the face of the man who could and probably would kill me, is something he liked about me; and it infuriated him just the same.

"Taking a shower," I answered curtly, not stopping to look back at him - not caring enough to, or at least that's what I knew he would think; and I knew exactly how enraged it would make him. "You didn't let me finish yesterday," I said before the door began to close.

"Do not lock the door," he ordered furiously, the sound of his feet on the floor as he lunged for the bathroom not quick enough to stop me pressing the button that kept him out. "Open the door," he yelled, hitting his hand hard against it making it rattle.

It didn't touch me then that no human could do that, could be strong enough to move the door with only his hand; it was secure in the wall, sealed in the frame. I missed it. And oh how much more I could have discovered about him if I hadn't. But instead I turned on the shower and stepped in, seeing in the mirror his purple fingerprints marking my body - painting my waist, freckling my thighs - before I looked away. I could hear him outside of the door, occassionally striking his fist against it but he did not break it - that would have given too much away.

I looked down at my wrist, running a finger over the smooth green tracker as I contemplated whether or not I could really do it. Right then, I could end it all right then by taking it off. My conscious would be clear, I had done nothing wrong yet, I could save myself from the agony of waiting for him to kill me. My answer was obvious when I raised my hand to run it through my wet hair. I couldn't do it.

* * *

_From the lack of reviews last chapter, and the very few reviews from the chapters before, I can only assume that something is wrong with the story. Is the writing just not good, is the pace too slow? Does it feel like it's dragging, should I take out some of the details and skip a few days? I'm trying to show the progression of her being in love with him, to finding out he's not who she thought, and then to where she accepts who he really is cause she's already in love - is that taking too long, would you rather me just sum a lot of that up in a few paragraphs and just move on to the action? At this point I'm not getting feedback and I don't know if people are actually enjoying the story or just waiting to start enjoying, or maybe the people reading the story (cause I can see that people are reading it) don't like reviewing. At this point I don't know what to do, cause I don't think I can continue a story where I'm not getting any feedback on what is good and what isn't good. So I guess let me know._


	12. all my limbs can become trees

_I would just like to thank all of the reviewers, it really meant a lot to me that you guys reviewed even though some of you don't normally review stories. They certainly help with writing, as inspiration to write more and to know what areas need work on. So thank you, very very much. _

_To the guests who reviewed, and there were many of them, thank you all; I'm sorry I could not thank you personally. But I really really do appreciate them._

_Marianamr: I'm very glad you're liking how I'm going with the story, and the way I'm doing them; cause she is in love with him, even though he's proving to be a "bad guy". I love leaving just like little lines where I foreshadow how this ends, it's fun to put them there. I'm not sure how I'm going to do the present time, cause there won't be much of it - so I may actually end up keeping her telling what happens, even though, well I won't say anymore cause it may ruin it. And yes, my Azog story. It was very dark, cause he's Azog; and I loved writing him way more than I thought I would. Thank you so much for your kind review._

* * *

He barely spoke to me the next few days, refused to acknowledge my exsistence when I spoke to him. It had almost made me smile when I'd first stepped out of the bathroom, to be greeted with nothing more than cold eyes filled with loathing and a clenched jaw. I had angered him, bested him; or so I thought. I had been pleased to know I could frustrate him, to get under his skin the way he was starting to get under mine. At least until I grew bored. I had four days before I'd start at the hospital, and he had a habit of disappearing during the day; I knew enough not to leave the room, which left me with nothing to do. After the first ten hours with nothing but the news I was itching even for his company, and he really wasn't bad company. When he wasn't being a self entitled ass with a superiority complex. But he wasn't all bad.

These were the things that occupied my mind; reasons why I should hate him, and the reasons why I didn't. There were hours I hated myself for how many more reasons I had why I didn't hate him, and other hours I gave up hating myself. He had been pleasant enough for weeks, actually more kind of great. He'd ask about my day and then listen to it as though he'd really wanted to know. How many men can you actually say that about?

He was a lot of things in that short period of time; someone to talk to, an escape from Jim being weird and Bones hating me, a pair of arms to hold me as I slept, someone to eat with and talk to, to share a shower with, to wake up beside. And he was a pretty damn good lay.

But can you really blame me for not completely hating him, he'd given me so many reasons why I couldn't. Even if I wanted to. I don't know when I stopped trying to hate him. Actually that's not entirely true, I think I know exactly when I did. It was my last free day before I'd start working at the children's hospital, John was gone somewhere. He didn't leave me with very many warnings, he didn't have to. We both knew I wasn't stupid. I didn't try to leave, I'm not sure I really cared to. I didn't try to alert anyone that I was in trouble, in all honesty other than the tracker I didn't really feel in danger; I think that's where I was the most stupid, my trust in him.

And so on that day when I heard a loud knock on my hotel room's door, I knew I wasn't supposed to answer it. I don't know if it was cause of John, of if somehow the feel of threat crept its way into my head. Either way I sat on the bed in a bathrobe staring at the door knowing the person on the other side would leave after the second round of knocking. Only they didn't, they knocked louder and more fervently; and I knew it meant something, only I didn't know what. I'll be honest, I was silently pleading with John to have heard the knocks from the tracker and was making his way back.

"Elenore Davis," a deep voice called from outside my room.

Dread crept into my heart, whoever it was had come with a purpose. And they knew I was here. "I need a minute," I called, now praying John was running, as I scrounged around for something to put on.

"I'm gonna need you to open the door now or I'll have to force my way in," he said, chilling me to the bone. "By order of Admiral Marcus."

Those four words made the air rush out of me in utter relief; Admiral Marcus was the head of Starfleet, there was nothing to fear. Perhaps he knew of John Harrison, maybe I was being saved. Call it a hunch, my sixth-sense, complete and utter luck; but the moment I opened the door and saw the mass of muscle that was the man knocking on my door, I did not feel safe. "Is something wrong?" I asked, standing behind the door to shield myself as much as possible.

"Have you seen this man?" he asked holding out a monitor with John's face on it.

I stared at the picture for many seconds, warring with myself whether I should answer honestly. Every instinct in my body told me to lie, so I did. "Not that I remember."

The man nodded, his eyes hardening as he looked down at me. At least twice my shoulder-width I had no doubt he could hurt me. "There was a report that you were seen with a man who looks like him," he said, a warning in his voice.

My mind moving a mile a minute I held my hand out for the monitor, feighing like I needed to see his face because I didn't know it. "I work at the hospital, I might have seen him there," I offered with a shrug and an apologetic face. "I also go the bar on the corner often, maybe he bought me a drink. I really don't recognize him, sorry." I knew he didn't buy it, I knew from his hot eyes and deep scowl that he was furious; he had no reason to question me further, not without proof.

"Would you mind if I step inside for a moment?" he asked, though I knew it wasn't a request.

"Actually I would," I told him without a single reason to back up my refusal; all that was going through my head was John's clothes, his shampoo, his toothbrush, everything that proved that I was not alone like I should have been.

It must have set off some alarm in his head cause his hand twitched, and my eyes caught sight of the gun beneath his jacket. "I'm sure the admiral would love to hear about this," he threatened, sneering at me because that was enough for any Starfleet Officer to do as they were told - their job was at stake, not mention with this guy standing outside my door my life.

But in the span of those few seconds before he'd spoken I'd thought of a reason to refuse, and to get rid of him. "I'm sure he would," I said defiantly. "Be sure to tell him you demanded to come into my room when I was wearing nothing more than a robe. I bet he'd love that." I smiled internally when the edge left his eyes, when doubt crept in as he realized I had every reason to say no. "If Admiral Marcus has anymore questions I would be more than happy to answer them, so long as he sends someone other than you." And with that I slammed the door closed, playing the part of the affronted innocent woman to hide the quiver in my spine.

John found me a little while later sitting on the bed still in the robe. "Who the hell was that?" I demanded the second he walked in the door. Having spent an hour waiting for the guy to come back with proof I'd been lying and either cart me off to be tortured, or to use me as bait for John - the mind does funny things when under stress.

"A man working for Admiral Marcus," he answered staring at me in incredulous amazement.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Why didn't you come back sooner?" I asked roughly. In all honesty I had been afraid whoever that guy had been had found John, and it had surprised me how much I didn't want that; I'd been worried about him, to tell you the truth.

"Yes I'm sure the man watching the hotel would have loved that, use your brain Elenore," he answered, his voice laced with such condescending that I felt stupid for having asked.

"I'm sorry that the man with the gun, who I'm pretty damn sure wanted to aim it at me, scared me a little," I yelled, staring at his hot eyes with my own furious ones. "Why are they after you?" I asked getting to my feet.

He shook his head before grabbing a bag. "I'm not answering that," he said as he began rifling through the room, shoving things in the lack duffle bag.

My brows rose in shock, there was no way in hell he was getting away with that now. "Actually I think you are."

"I beg your pardon?" he questioned as he stilled completely, turning to me with fury in his eyes.

I didn't care at that point, my hands were shaking with the adrenaline and fear that I had suppressed as I waited for John to come back. "Do you have any idea what would've happened if he'd come in here?" I demanded as I stepped to him. "He would have seen that there was a man staying with me, I should be alone. He already knew I was lying. I don't know what's going on but I'm pretty sure I just bought you time. Now why are they after you?"

I waited nearly heaving as he glared down at me, seeing in his eyes he was weighing what to do - and I was very aware one of those options was killing me. "I went against orders," he answered finally. I honestly don't know why he didn't just kill me then, it's possible he could have gotten to Lucille without me - or figured out another plan. But I had bought him time, I had kept him a secret, I was smart enough to know which person to trust - at that moment, it was him. It could have been any of those, or it could've been something else I hadn't thought of. Either way he didn't kill me, at least not then.

I knew that was all I'd get out of him, I knew it from the way he hastily packed his bag. "Where are you going?" I asked quietly, wondering how much danger I was now in if he was running. Wondering if he was the danger, or if perhaps it lay in the Admiral - a daft idea I quickly shook off, though it had struck me.

"You needn't concern with that," he answered absentmindedly as he closed the bag and turned to me. "You begin work at the Children's Hospital tomorrow," he said stepping to me and staring down at my face. "It would be best should you gain access to Lucille Harewood's room no later than the end of your shift."

I stared up at him, a concern pressing against my mind until the words fell from my lips. "Should I be afraid of you?" I asked watching his brow twitch as though it wanted to raise in surprise. "Or should I be afraid of them?" I didn't know what to do anymore, I didn't have any answers; I was running blind and my next move could send me falling off a cliff.

The corners of his mouth quirked before he bent to my ear. "Trust your instinct," he said softly in my ear. "You're smarter than you think." I was struggling to catch my breath, his deep purr of a voice shivering down my spine, and he was already at the door. "Thank you for not speaking of me," he said as he stood in the doorway, shocking me. And then he was gone.

* * *

_So it was brought up by one reviewer the sudden shift of "normal" between Ellie and John and then John suddenly being the "bad guy". And I think I showed part of the reason why in this chapter, even though I never explained it; cause it is from her point of view, and there's so much she doesn't know. But there's people after John, so he's running out of time being patient with Ellie and he needs her to do the things he asks, and he needs her to do them quickly so that he can run before he gets caught. I just wanted to clarify that in case there was anyone else who was put off by the sudden shift. _


	13. all my children can become me

I'd like to tell you the reason why I tossed and turned all night was because thoughts of the man returning and carting me off to be interrogated kept me awake, or that I now knew Admiral Marcus was the person John worked for and that led to more questions than answers. But in all honesty, my body had decided to grow accustomed to the feel of John's as I slept, and I was cold and alone and I couldn't sleep. It was pathetic, sad, it hurt my pride to realize I'd let myself get used to his presence, so much so that I needed him to fall asleep. For most of the night I laid running my thumb over the tracker, wondering why I was going to do what he asked. I didn't know anything about him, what he'd done to have the head of Starfleet after him, why he was using me. I knew at some point, when I was no longer useful, he'd get rid of me; and I knew very much that would mean my death. I don't want you to think I was completely stupid, I was very aware he would kill me at some point. But I don't know why that didn't make me afraid of him, it should have; I should have trembled with fear the moment he looked at me, I should be crying over the hopelessness of the entire situation. But I wasn't. Instead I was lying in a bed wishing against all common sense he was laying beside me so that I could sleep.

And so I groaned in relief when my watch beeped, pulling myself out of the bed and catching a quick shower before walking out the door. My hands were itching to cut someone, at least until I remembered I would be doing surgeries on children. I sighed heavily before making my way to the coffee shop at the end of the corner.

"Good morning Elenore."

I felt my heart palpitate at the sound of his voice, his name on my tongue as I turned to him. "John," I said simply, swallowing the relief at seeing him so he wouldn't see. And even then I'm sure he knew. I took the coffee and the bagged scone he handed me, looking at him with furrowed brows. "Thank you," I said quietly, seeing the brief flash of confusion in his eyes before he nodded and beckoned me to follow. Rolling my eyes I followed, it had been a kind gesture for him to get me coffee and something to eat; but of course it had been a passing thought to him, nothing more.

I followed him for several minutes, growing breathless at the pace I was forced in order not to lose him from how fast he walked. "This is where you will find me when I call you," he said holding the door open for me, closing it as he followed me inside. It was dark, barely light at all save a small table lamp. Old boxes lined the floor, the smell of dust and years heavy in the air, a table pushed against a wall littered with papers and old looking devices I didn't recognize and I knew John had been using it; I wondered how long he'd been coming here, if this is where he'd been hiding before he came across me.

"Is it safe to call me?" I asked knowing if I was being watched then my communicator was being monitored; though I wasn't receiving many calls, Jim still wasn't talking to me. If only he knew.

His mouth quirked when he turned to me. "You'll know when I want you," he assured, his eyes hot as he stared down at my face.

My breath caught in my chest when I met his stare. I felt my entire body ignite from the scorching heat of his eyes, which were staring hard at me as though he was trying to see beneath my skin. I had only felt this a few times before, this pull toward him that made it impossible to breathe, this need to be near him as though I would fall apart if I turned, the utter desire that washed over me to just stand there with him and simply _be_. I think this is every reason why I let myself love him, why I continued to love him despite his efforts to bend me to his will; I had done drugs when I was younger, few and minor as they were, but there was nothing half as addicting as this. Because even then, with a tracker on my arm capable of killing me and him with the control, in the face of such raw desire and need - I let him have me.

For several long seconds, possibly minutes, I stood staring up at him breathing deeply as my skin flushed beneath his heavy gaze. I don't know if I moved first, or he did. Maybe we moved together, but in a second his mouth pressed against my own in a fit of searing desire. His hands slamming me into the wall so hard my ears rung, my hands around his waist not missing a beat as I undid his belt. There was lust, and need, and pleasure, and pain, as he stood thrusting into me using the wall as leverage to slam his hips harder against mine. There was hate, coming from us both; it's what made it hurt. And I loved every second of it. I wouldn't say he loved it, but he sure as hell enjoyed the fuck out of fucking me. I could see it in his eyes after we'd finished, his forehead against mine, my chest heaving, our lips bruised red. It wasn't until he ran his thumb along my bottom lip that I realized he'd split it with his teeth, and even then it still didn't hurt. I wouldn't feel any sort of pain until after I'd left him.

"You should go," he said softly, pulling my pants up from around my thighs.

I nearly smiled, that was how comfortable I was with him; the man that held my life in his hand though I didn't realize just how much his hands could do then. "Wouldn't want you to make me late on my first day," I said walking around him to grab my coffee. "Thanks for breakfast," I called as I left, not needing to look back to know his lips were curled into a smile.

...

I went to my room later that night and did little more than lock the door and kick my pants off before I laid down utterly exhausted. Sleep came in minutes, blissful and much needed after a long day. I don't know how long I slept, deep enough I didn't hear the door open or close though I doubt any noise was made. I wasn't aware someone was in my room until they covered my mouth.

My eyes shot open, a scream in my throat as I grabbed the person's arm and tried to scratch his face. For the record, always go for the eyes; it's the most effective means to get someone to loosen their grip so that you have more leverage to fight back.

"Elenore."

I stilled at the sound of my name until I recognized the voice that said it. "What the hell, John," I all but yelled as I hit him hard in the chest. I thought he was a killer, that someone had broken into my room and planned to take advantage of me and then kill me - oh the bitter irony of how accurate that was.

"You didn't do as I asked," he said getting right to the point, not caring he'd scared the shit out of me or to even say hello.

I sighed tiredly as I laid back on the bed. "They gave me 3 back to back surgeries," I told him as I settled back under the warm covers, my body not missing that his was sitting next to mine. "I'll get access to her and her files tomorrow," I said yawning. I heard him sigh, knowing from the force of it he was very unhappy with me; what does it say that hearing that and knowing he'd killed me I still settled comfortably back to bed, not a fear in that moment he would hurt me. And it was a struggle for him not to, cause he very much wanted to hurt me then. I was taken from my drowsiness when he stood and made for the bathroom, hearing his fist against the wall and then silence. But I was already asleep when he left.

I wasn't scared the next night either. I wasn't feeling much of anything but sadness, and failure. He'd stormed through the door, a fire and a rage in his eye; but that all melted to startled confusion when he found me in the bed crying.

"What was it this time?" he asked, the impatience clear in his voice.

I sniffed, wiping the hot tears from my cheeks; hating crying, especially in front of him, but hating losing patients even more - and he was so young. "My kid died," was all I said. He was the cutest kid. Beautiful blue eyes, and blonde hair that fell in his eyes, and a smile that just radiated joy and happiness; all of that wrapped in a body that was dying. I hadn't even been able to the tell parents, and it does more harm than good when the doctor is telling you why your loved one died and they start crying. I hated when kids died. They hadn't lived yet, they hadn't done anything to deserve what happened to them. And he'd reminded me so much of Jim at that age.

I don't know how much will it had taken him to stay silent, to not yell or hit me for going yet another day without gaining access to her room. But he didn't, he sat quietly beside me as I sniffed away the last of my tears. "Goodnight Elenore," he said softly, touching my face briefly, before leaving. He left me to a dark and empty room, and I rolled over and wished he'd stayed.

...

I'd pushed the limits of his patience, finding myself busy with several patients not an excuse. At least not to him. And so when my shift ended on that third day and I still hadn't gotten into her room I knew I was in for trouble; just not what kind. I peeled off my scrubs and stepped into my pants before a searing pain erupted in my wrist. I gasped, a quiet choked cry tearing from my throat as my knees buckled. I looked down at the tracker shocked, and terrified. I waited, my heart pounding relentlessly and my breaths growing short, waiting for the poison to begin taking effect. Only it didn't come. Standing on shaky legs I pulled my shirt on, realizing this was what John had meant when I'd know when he wanted me, before making my way back to where John had showed me.

On any other day I might have been angry, might have opened the door and given him some snarky remark. I didn't. I opened the door and closed it, steeling myself for the rage that would be on his face.

Ice filled my blood and numbed me when I saw the young woman tied to the chair, her mouth taped shut and tears streaming down her face.


	14. what a mess I leave

_French: thank you so much for reviewing, I really appreciate it. And I thought you wrote it very well for being french. I'm really glad that you're liking it, and my characters; cause her and John aren't really "healthy" and you're absolutely right, they do destroy each other. So thank you so much again._

* * *

Ice filled my blood and numbed me when I saw the young woman tied to the chair, her mouth taped shut and tears streaming down her face. I looked around the room until I found John sitting at the desk emotionless, my mouth opening to say something but no words left my tongue.

"I had so hoped you would give me what I wanted," he said gently, as though this were all my fault. "I didn't want to have to do this, Elenore. I didn't want to have to hurt you to make you listen," he said standing and walking to me.

My feet were rooted to the ground, my eyes staring at him in complete shock. "Let her go," I said, watching him roll his eyes at how trivial that sounded when I was so much smarter. "I won't do anything until you let her go," I said knowing before the words left my mouth they were a mistake. And I was proven right by the hardening of his eyes.

"You are not in the position to be making demands," he said standing and making his way toward me until he was only a foot away.

I stepped back shaking my head. My heart was racing as I started at him, I was honestly afraid as I hadn't been before. He'd shielded me, kept me blind. I had been stupid to be fooled by him; his nice face had been his mask, and now I was staring at a monster. "I'll get you into Lucille Harewood's room,"

"It's about more than her room, Elenore," he said raising his voice making me flinch. "Think," he ground out through clenched teeth.

And so I did, I thought as I hard as I could; keeping my head bowed slightly so I didn't have to stare into his cold and hateful eyes, feeling his chest against mine with each breath. "You want in the hospital," I said realizing I should have known that before. "I can get you in the hospital," I said looking up at him. "But not until you let her go."

He sighed, a growl in the back of his throat, as he turned from me. He moved too fast for my eyes to catch and I cried out when the force of his hand met my cheek and sent me in the air. I landed hard on my side, the wind knocked out of me and tears filling my eyes. "No," I said, my voice thick in my throat, when he stepped closer. But again he moved too quickly and before I could back away he had me pinned me to the ground.

"I did not want to have to resort to this Elenore," he said holding my wrists firmly to the floor. "I gave you patience, gave you time, I gave you kindness," he said spitting as he gripped my wrists tighter, I could feel the bones shifting beneath my skin. "I gave you everything and you refuse to give me the one thing I ask for."

I flinched when he yelled my shoulders shaking though I tried so hard not to cry. But I was so afraid. This was the man Starfleet was after, this was the man who had killed people. He was not the man I had spent the last month with, and he wasn't the man I was in love with. I didn't know who this was.

"You will get me everything I ask come hell or high water," he hissed bending his head to my ear, making me recoil from him as I shook beneath him. "And believe me, Elenore, I am both hell and high water."

I laid still beneath him, my chest giving a small jolt every so often from my will not to cry. I don't know how long he stared down at me, I wouldn't look at him, it could have been seconds or minutes. It felt like an hour before he released his hold on me and got to his feet. It wasn't until he moved that I realized I hadn't been breathing, and my breaths came in small gasps as I continued to lay on the floor.

"Get up," he said, his voice soft almost gentle. I think even he knew he'd gone too far, at least for me; I was so much weaker than him. "Elenore," he said reaching for me, but I planted my feet on the ground and heaved myself away from him. There was no anger in his eyes when he righted himself and stared at me, not like there should have been - instead he stared into my mistrustful eyes and watched as I stood on my own. "Come tomorrow morning, I'll have a list of what I need," he said turning away from me.

I wondered if he had a hard time meeting my eye, if he was ashamed of what he had done; if he regretted it because he realized he did truly care for me. But he had only realized when staring at my eyes filled with fear, fear of him, and he didn't want that. Or maybe he was done with me and so he'd turned away. Either way I cast a helpless look to the poor young woman, barely older than myself, seeing she was crying behind the tape as her eyes begged me to help her. But I could do nothing, and so I turned away.

...

I put as much makeup over the dark bruise as I could, my cheek purple; I was surprised he hadn't broken my cheekbone from how hard he'd struck me. I still couldn't believe that, that he'd actually hit me. He hadn't hurt me before, I think that's why I'd had such a hard time believing he was the "bad guy"; I still didn't fully think he was, be my inability to because I was in love with him, or because somehow my subconscious had figured it all out - or maybe it was my heart.

Either one didn't matter, he'd hit me, made me afraid of him and there was no changing that now. I think from his sigh when I returned to him that morning proved that even he knew it. The girl was still sitting in the chair, her mouth still taped shut and her eyes just as red and tear stained as they'd been when I left. But she was alive. And it seemed he hadn't cared enough to do anything to make her comfortable, I don't know why I thought he would - he was only using her to get to me, and he was only using me to get to Thomas Harewood; and I had an inkling he was using Thomas Harewood to get to Admiral Marcus.

I didn't look at him, I didn't dare look up into his eyes in fear that they would be warm and then I'd melt in the palm of his hand. But I could feel his eyes on me, scorching my face and flaying me alive; I could feel the need in him, the want - I just didn't know what for. And I want nothing more than to be able to tell you it repulsed me, but it didn't and that's why I couldn't look at him; because if he had've kissed me then I know I would have kissed him back. I think that was the moment I realized just how lost I had become; I was his.

"This is a list of what I need, I will need it before noon," he said handing me a small piece of paper with his elegant scribbles on it. I flinched when he raised his hand to my cheek, thinking he would hit me for not answer him - but after a moment of hesitation he gently touched his fingertips to my bruised skin. It was then, upon feeling such tenderness from him, that I looked up at him. His eyes weren't hard, or cold as they had been yesterday; they were searching, and soft. It was all of an apology I would get from him, I knew that, and I took it because I had never seen him so soft before - so gentle. "What would Admiral Marcus do with you if he found you?" he asked surprising me with the question.

My brows furrowed as I thought, it was so off the wall I had been completely thrown off. But I knew the answer, I had figured it out days ago when one of his men had tried to force his way into my room. "He would kill me," I answered, and he nodded looking pleased I knew that.

"I need all of this by noon, Elenore," he said bending so his mouth was by ear; something both he and I noticed did not make me flinch.

I knew from the look in his eye, from his soft touch on my arm that felt like an embrace, I knew from his words that _I_ needed it to happen by noon. It was so obvious now that a rescue would not come, at least not one that would end with me living; and I was forced to wonder once again if it was John I was supposed to be afraid of, or the man who was after him. It left me confused and no one to turn to, and so I took the paper and I turned from him.

"Elenore," he said calling me back.

I could feel my hands shaking, the piece of paper in my fist rattling. He placed the cup of coffee in my hand before placing his own on my back and leading me to the door. Standing outside of the building breathing in the english air, hearing the sounds of people going about their day as though there was nothing to fear; with John's hand warm on my back, his chest against my arm, I breathed deeply until I finally calmed. It was as though a heavy weight had been placed on my chest, and breathing in silence with John doing no more than standing beside me, I could finally breathe again.

"What happens after today?" I asked, my voice barely heard above the honking of a car. "Will you leave me to him?"

I felt his sigh more than I heard it, felt him pull me closer pressing his nose into my hair and his mouth on my temple. It was as much of an embrace as he was capable of, I think it was as much caring as he was willing to admit; and then he let me go and I turned away from him and made my way to the hospital. I didn't bother checking in, I wasn't staying long enough, I simply put on my badge and ticked off his list. And then barely two hours later I returned to him, giving him the needle and the vial, a badge of his own to get past the front desk and move about the hospital unnoticed, and the location of Lucille Harewood's room. And that was all he needed, I knew it was when he turned to the woman untied her, leading her out the door. I don't know what he said to her, he probably threatened her to keep her mouth shut cause knowing his face would only lead to her being hurt, but whatever it was she never tried to help me; I told you, people are selfish. I would've done the same thing.

I looked up when he closed the door, his eyes on my face as he stepped to me. I had given him what he wanted, I had filled my use; there was nothing he needed from me anymore. "Now what?"

* * *

_From when he hit her to when he tells her to get up, I had that all written out and then my computer decided to delete it; and it sucked cause I really liked how it flowed. But I had to rewrite it and I'm not at all happy with that section, so I apologize if that part of the chapter sucks. The original had been so much better. Also, for those of you who've seen the movie, you know what's coming next chapter. So pretty much everything happens next chapter, and I am so freaking excited for it! And I really hope you guys are still enjoying. _


	15. to follow

_Marianamr: thanks for reviewing, I'm so glad you like it. I've been trying really hard to have her say things that show he does actually care about her, even though he isn't being very nice. So I've been trying to show his layers through her, and it's been so hard and I haven't been sure if I was even doing it well. So thank you so much for your review, it really meant a lot to me._

* * *

I sat quietly in the small dark building, waiting for John to return from the hospital - he hadn't really answered me, in all honesty I don't think even he knew what to do with me. And so he told me to sit and wait, to not go outside until he returned. I realized after an hour he was going to see Thomas Harewood, at least he would when Thomas took his lunch break to visit his daughter. I looked at a few of the papers lining his desk but most of them were just equations, some of which looked like the ones I had seen in Scotty's notebook but I had never had any interest in that kind of science. I didn't realize then that I was staring at the formulas John had constructed himself, ones for him - and ones for me. It was completely lost on me that I had held in my hands the plans John had spent hours making and perfecting.

I looked up when John returned, planning to ask why he had needed Lucille to get to Thomas, but my stomach clenched when I saw the bag of food in his hand. I hadn't eaten anything since lunch the day before, needless to say I didn't do anything but shove food in my mouth until I had eaten all he'd brought me. "Why did you need Lucille?" I asked after I'd finished, sitting beside him, leaning against the wall.

"Elenore," he sighed raising his eyes to the ceiling, about to say once again he wasn't going to tell me.

"John," I said exasperated, interrupting him, "could you just give me an answer?" I asked looking over at him to see his brows raised in amusement though he did not open his mouth to speak. I nearly rolled my eyes and punched him, that's how frustrated I was - I was just so sure that if he gave me something then I would understand, cause it had to be a good reason because I wasn't wrong about him. "Please?"

He looked at me for a few moments, his lips curled in a half smile before facing forward. "I gave him a cure for his daughter," he answered.

There, see, he wasn't completely horrible which meant the crazy things he made me feel didn't make me a bad person. "But nothing's been found to cure it," I said as I thought, cause medically speaking everything had been tried to make her better and it had all failed. So it didn't make any sense; at least not until I remembered the list he'd given me. "Your blood?"

"Mm," he hummed looking over at me, close enough for me to raise my chin and kiss him if I wanted - a thought I quickly shoved aside. "Smart girl, Elenore. I wonder if you'll get the rest," he said before standing.

"The rest?" I asked taking his hand letting me pull to my feet. "You mean the questions you still haven't answered?"

He smiled before stepping closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me to his chest. "You'll figure it out later, if you're smart enough," he said, and I thought he was honestly teasing - like a normal person would. "You do love a good puzzle."

I stared up at him in surprise, at him for knowing me well enough to know I was now hopelessly intrigued, and at myself for relaxing completely in his arms - my stupid heart beating faster at his nearness and the heat in his eyes, the closeness of his mouth.

Reality crashed around me when he released me and stepped back, pleased with himself he could still effect me. "Go back to your room and pack a bag, you will be staying her tonight. I'll come get you before dinner," he said leading a still baffled me to the door. I just about had to bite my tongue to keep from asking, "so I am going with you?" which I still wasn't sure what answer I would get or even how I really felt about him still having me.

I did as he said, happy to be able to breathe air that wasn't his. The moment I got to my room I headed for the shower, sitting under the warm spray for hours. I honestly don't know how long I sat there, enough that my fingertips had pruned and it had turned from late in the afternoon to nearing dark. Turning off the now cold water I dried myself off and got dressed, packing a bag as I went.

There wasn't a knock, or a jiggle of the door handle - those would have alerted me that someone other than John was outside of my door. No, I was given no warning. All of a sudden the door was kicked in, and no matter how fast I moved it would never have been enough - the same man who'd questioned me about John had been given leave to take me by force, and he was only too happy oblige. And so I had done no more than heard the door burst open and turned trying to run before the man was on me and a needle pricking my neck. And then everything went black.

...

I felt like my eyes were peeling open when I finally blinked myself into consciousness. It felt as though I had gone over 20 hours without rest and this was the first time I'd slept; that's how exhausted and weighed down I felt. It wasn't until my brain registared the dark room and the memory of the man knocking me out that I sat up. "John." His name fell from my tongue as though by instinct, that out of everyone in the world he was first person I called for. That wasn't lost on me, and I didn't care.

I looked up when I heard someone walk to me and kneel beside me, prepared to fight, or scream cause I really didn't think I could fight. "How are you feeling?" John asked brushing the hair out of my face.

Relief whooshed out of me and I laid back, realizing I was on the floor of the building John was hiding in. This is where he had been when he heard the sound of the door breaking in from the tracker, and thankfully for me it was only a few minutes walk from my hotel. And believe it or not John had come running the moment he'd heard it, he'd run hard enough he'd been breathless when he charged the man; a fight he'd easily won, taking the man's head in his hands and cracking his skull. And then he'd been left with me lying unconscious on the floor, which he'd carried me here; I of course didn't know any of this, but I thought you should.

"What time is it?"

"One thirty," he answered surprising me.

I had been unconscious for at least five hours. "He must've given me a sedative," I mumbled feeling John's hands still running through my hair, comforting my panicked heart. I would have died today; Admiral Marcus would've had me questioned, possibly tortured to ensure I was telling everything, and then I'd be killed.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly when he saw tears glisten in my eyes, the edge of irritation only slight in his voice; it was as gentle as he could be with an emotional woman, as a man who had no time for such trouble.

I raised my hand in a helpless gesture before letting it fall back to my stomach, noticing for the first time John had placed a blanket over me. "Lay down," I said moving the covers aside for him. His brow twitched before he complied, grabbing the covers and waiting until I settled over his chest before he wrapped them around me. Though my cheek was still bruised, though he'd made me afraid of him and what he was willing to do to get what he wanted, though I shouldn't trust him, I slowly began to relax until I could breathe easier. He'd saved my life; I had already given him what he wanted, he literally had no use for me anymore - he could have been done away with me and not have had anything to worry about cause he hadn't told me anything. And yet he'd saved me.

With my head on his chest and a hand curled beneath my chin I let myself remember why I had had such a hard time hating him - his fingers running through my hair making it very easy. I don't think I could have stopped falling in love with him no matter how I tried, I think he made that impossible for me. I just want you to understand why I did what I did next, if there is something to understand. Maybe it was the sedative, or maybe I was just crazy. Either I was simply laying with my head on his chest, and then it wasn't so simple anymore. I could hear his heart, feel him breathing, his hand warm and firm around my back - I was safe and warm because he'd saved me. Somehow that meant everything.

I don't think he knew what I was doing when I moved, when I sat up to stare down at his face seeing he wasn't sleeping. He looked up at me, brushing the hair out of my face, his fingers grazing the bruise he'd given me. I don't think my kissing him really surprised him, I think it just caught him off guard - and that may explain why he allowed himself a gentleness he never had before. I won't fool you, it was still fucking; it was just tender fucking. I think he could sense my hesitation, that I was thinking that this was wrong; he took the time to convince me it wasn't, that this was the most right thing I had ever done. He kissed every concern away, his mouth running along my jaw down my neck and over my chest; he moved slow, deliberate, pulling my legs further up his sides leaving me to cling to him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. I don't think I ever stood a chance. I think he made sure of that.

For the first time, when I laid my head back on his chest, he'd lost his breath as I always did. But his arms locked around me just as tight, keeping me secure against him as I slowly succumbed to sleep. I woke the next morning cold and alone, my body covered with the blanket and my clothes folded beside me. I don't know what woke me, maybe a part of me just _knew_ something was about to happen that would change everything. I barely had my pants over my hips when the ground beneath my feet began to shake. The sound of screams and an explosion had me racing to the door, looking out to see the last of the archive fall in on itself.

Everything went numb, my body quivered though the ground had stopped shaking. There had been people in the archive, hundreds at least and who knew how many more in Starfleet's hidden operative beneath it. They were all dead. And I had helped.

"What did you do?" I asked the moment John returned, trying so hard to convince myself this wasn't all my fault - but I had given John everything he'd needed. "How could,"

"Stop talking Elenore," he said curtly, silencing me. He placed the black bag he'd been carrying on the table and opened it. I stared at the large grey cylindars, wondering what they were and what he was doing. I watched quietly as he fiddled with them, opening up part of them and doing some sort of engineering on it. There was another, that looked exactly like the others but no bigger than a can, and he spent at least ten minutes tinkering with it before he finished.

"Where do you plan on going?" I asked, realizing he needed to run because surely everyone would be after him now - which led me to the realization that I was staring at warping devices.

He looked up at me briefly before back down at a padd he pulled from the bag, and then he spent an ungodly amount of time configuring more equations and messing with the mathmatics of the devices. "You have a choice Elenore," he said standing, putting the transwarping devices back in the back and placing in my hand the smaller one. "You can stay here if you like, try your luck with playing the victim and see how far that gets you. In a few hours I will activate this to warp, if you wish to stay you should not be touching this," he said seriously, his hand on top of mine as he stared down at me. He gave me a final searching look before releasing me, slipping out of the door, and then he was gone.

I stared at the small transporter, wondering what he had done to it. I couldn't go with him, he'd just killed hundreds of people - had gotten me to help him kill hundreds of people without ever telling me what I was doing. He was a murderer, a monster. But how could I possibly stay? I was all of those things now, there was no victim card I could play. I couldn't stay, not after what I'd done.

Jim, I needed Jim. I rifled through the things on the desk, the small bag John had taken when he left my hotel room and found my communicator.

"Hello?"

My knees nearly gave out at the sound of his voice and it took everything I had not to cry at that very moment. "Hey Jim, it's Ellie."

"Hey," he said sounding startled - it had been weeks since we'd last spoken I'm sure it was a surprise to hear from me. I could hear the sound of music, of someone ordering some kind of drink, and I knew he was in a bar. "Look Ellie I can't," he stopped talking, probably to run his hand across his face at his own hopeless frustration. "They took the Enterprise from me," he said bitterly. "I can't talk right now Elle, I'll call you later," he said rushing through his words. I held a hand over my mouth to keep from crying, or telling him everything; I wanted so much for him to say he loved me, that everything would be okay. "Ellie?"

I knew I had been quiet for too long, I should have said something by now. And so I swallowed the knot in my throat. "Yeah, call me later," I said, hiding the sound of my tears because I knew he wouldn't hang up if he heard I was upset. The line went dead and all I heard was silence. I make no apologies for what I did next. I sat down, the transporter in my lap, and I cried.

...

_Several hours later_

_Scotty went over the mathmatics of the transwarp beaming device and its recording, seeing exactly where John Harrison had gone and what formula he'd used to make the device get him there. There were a few small places where Scotty stumbled, the math not adding up correctly - John Harrison's numbers not matching as the equations as they should. Scotty found the receiving point of the device, read the numbers and the coordinates and discovered the station John had beamed too. It was from there the terrorist's math didn't quite make sense, the numbers were biggers, another equation had been factored in. But John Harrison had accessed another transporter and beamed to an empty ship, and that another transwarp device had been used and his mathmatics had been correct once more - and then once more the same strange equation that Scotty couldn't quite understand popped up on those recordings. _

_John Harrison was acting alone, and yet what Scotty thought he was seeing was the equation of another person being beamed with him; except that the devices were recorded to have only been told to transport one person. And so it wasn't possible, at least not from the last transport on the unmanned ship. The transport device there had used all of its energy to transport John Harrison, it had been completely burnt out. But it had been successful in sending John Harrison to his desired location. But if there was a second person, and Scotty wasn't wholly convinced there was, then the equation should have been factored into all of the mathmatics in the devices, not just the three places they were found. And so Scotty had put it in the back of his mind, almost forgetting about it when he figured out the last location. Because Scotty knew if there was a second person, with the lack of caution there had been with beaming them; they couldn't possibly have survived anyway._

* * *

_So I realized while writing this, there are a lot of important factors that Ellie isn't really apart of - or that she knows. So I might litter little scenes thorughout my next chapter of something that happens when she's not exactly relavent, like I did at the end of this chapter with Scotty. Also, the fact that John spent days working out the equation to use for her to beam with him, is super important - cause it shows he cares about her, and actually somewhat whats her to come with him. So the Enterprise and all its crew comes in next chapter, and I'm so excited for it. Thanks for reading, hope you're all still enjoying._


	16. in the darkness I will meet

_jibril: things certainly have gotten more interesting, and I hope they continue to be. Thank you for reviewing._

_Marianamr: thank you so much for reviewing, your reviews really mean a lot to me. I'm glad you liked the ending, I don't know much about Star Trek and transporting so I had hoped it made sense. I'm excited to get to the Kirk and the Enterprise finding her too, there's a lot of twists. And he did really seal her fate, cause had he talked to her she might not have gone which meant this story would be totally different. _

_So I'm not exactly sure how transporting actually works, and how much strain it would put on the body and what the effects of it would be specifically in her case. So this is just my idea of what would happen, and it might not be right scientifically but I kind of like how it ended up in words. So I hope you guys don't find that off putting cause I tried to make it natural and explain what all happened so that it all made sense. So I hope you enjoy._

* * *

I had made my decision, or rather I never took the device from my lap - which in result beamed me when John's transwarping devices activated. There was a look in his eye when he turned around and saw me, a hard look full of surprise and searching as he grabbed my arm and hoisted me to my feet. I let him pull me to the transport pad, positioning me however he desired - trusting him to tell the machine to beam me with him rather than him just abandoning me. "Don't move," he said firmly before moving to the controls. Numbly I watched him push buttons, put in the coordinates; not knowing he only told it there were two people on the pad, but only beaming one person. His eyes flicked to mine, ice blue eyes as full of danger as they had been when I first met him, a half smile curled on his mouth as he pushed a last button before walking to me.

This was it, I couldn't go back from here there were no other chances. I could step off the pad, let him leave and he would let me; call Starfleet, call Captain Pike and tell him everything - if there was anyone who could save me from Admiral Marcus now it would be him. I didn't know then that Pike was dead, that I was staring at his killer as he stepped beside me. My feet stayed put in the spot he planted them, I had made my decision; I was leaving.

It felt a little funny when we materialized on the transport pad of an old Starfleet ship; the air felt thin, it was a struggle to breathe deep enough to satiate my starved lungs. I didn't realize the problem was me, that John was hanging me on a ledge and hoping the rock wouldn't crumble in my hands as I held on for dear life. Maybe I might've figured it out had I not noticed the complete stillness of the ship - the air didn't move, I could hear the sound of my heart and I wondered if he could hear it too. But he had already moved to the controls.

"Stay there Elenore," he said not even glancing my way, as though he could sense my having been about to move.

With a sigh I kept my place, waiting for him to finish telling the machine where we would go - my eyes glancing around me in curiosity rather than on him, which gave him the chance to use another set of transwarp devices. And again he typed in the mathmatics of two people on the pad, but only one person being beamed. It was in this John was able to hide my presense. In order for me to be successfully beamed the transporter needed to know that I was being beamed, or else once my molecules were disassembled they would not be reassembled at our destination - no one in their right mind would leave that to chance, or in John's case no one who could afford to care.

"Where are we going?" I asked when he stepped onto the pad.

He looked down at me, his eyes as I had never seen them before - concerned. My brows knitted together when he reached a hand to my face, his eyes still locked on mine. I didn't realize it then, but he was bracing himself. The moment I began to dematerialize I knew something was wrong, horribly horribly wrong. There was a tightness in my chest, my lungs couldn't expand - there was always a moment of strange stillness, but this was just wrong. I couldn't breathe. There was weight where there shouldn't have been, a tearing as though literally the fabric of my being was now unwound. I wasn't supposed to feel anything, there was a slight tingling - that was normal - but I shouldn't be feeling every molecule that made up the blueprint of my body. It isn't enough to describe that feeling, to say it was painful, words aren't enough for you to understand that I would not wish that on the vilest of creatures - it hurt. That four letter word is short, it's simple, overused to the point its meaning has been lost. It felt as though I had been ripped apart, and then I was pieced back together in the most violent of ways. And I could not scream. I couldn't breathe.

...

"Elenore." I just barely heard his voice, a muffled sound hiding behind the raging in my head. He was afraid, if there was anything you should know about what had happened and what he'd done - the lack of care he'd given to my well being. You should know in that moment, kneeling beside me as my body seized, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, my breaths short wheezes that sounded more like choking - he was afraid. "Elenore," he yelled, his voice loud enough to break through the storm in my mind.

I woke to clamy skin, his hand on my face, a horrid churning in my stomach, an ache in my chest, and a throbbing in my head. To the say the least, I felt like shit. My chest heaved as I gasped for air, my lungs not expanding fully causing me to choke as I breathed.

When my eyes focused and I saw his face my hand grabbed his shirt, clinging to him. It didn't matter that he'd just killed hundreds, that he had killed many before, that he had been holding me against my will - none of that mattered. I thought I'd die, I really thought I was going to die. I had wanted to, to make that horrid feeling stop - I would have given anything to just not _be_ anymore if the feeling of tearing stopped. But looking at his blue eyes as he searched my face, his hand on my head, I realized I didn't want to die. And a part of me didn't want to die because of him, as crazy as that sounds. But he was looking down at me with brows furrowed in concern, his eyes blazing with worry he masked a moment too late; the corners of his mouth curling as my breathing levelled.

The moment I took that first deep breath the churning in my stomach boiled over. I barely had time to turn on my side before I vomitted, and though puking is distgusting and entirely unpleasant I can happily tell you that there was no blood - which meant all of my organs were where they should be and I had reassembled correctly. I was alive, I was okay. Though my stomach was still heaving, my throat burning with acid; I was okay.

I laid on my side breathing heavily, his hand on my back as he put his weapon aside to see to my well being - that's important. He had actually set aside thoughts of his plans, which he had never held back on for me before nor would he again, but he did then. I told you, watching me having a seizure had scared him; I think, in that moment, he had been scared of losing me. He of course came to his senses, because really I was nothing to him but a pawn - but in that moment, I knew he'd fallen for me too.

"I didn't think you would make it," he said off handedly as though it would make no difference either way. I wasn't fooled though, and looking at my face I knew he realized it.

But I gave a small laugh, turning on my back to him. "You son of a bitch," I breathed, nearly rejoicing in being able to breathe again.

His mouth twitched as he stared down at me, trying not to smile. He rolled his eyes before patting my head gently. "We need to move," he said, back to business. He gently pulled me to my feet, his hand cupping the back of my head to keep it from lolling behind me from the strength I didn't have to hold it up.

I looked up at him, feeling his arm tight around my back as he held me up; and then the world turned on its side leaving me reeling. And once more my stomach heaved and John had to hold me up as I vomitted again. I felt him sigh, felt his irritation and impatience at my obscene humaness; he was my John again. Without the patience to deal with me and my quivering legs he grabbed the weapon and slung it over his shoulder before picking me up and carrying me away. And it was then, an arm around my back and under my knees, my arms wrapped around his neck and my head on his shoulder, that I looked around me. It was dark, the air was thick and humid, there were mountains of sharp edges hidden in the shadow. "Where are we?" I whispered, close enough to his ear that I knew he'd heard me. I hoped, no I prayed that we weren't where I thought we were. But how could we not be here, it was the only place he could run Starfleet couldn't follow.

"Where do you think we are?" he asked as he walked, obviously a plan in mind for where we were going but I didn't know. I didn't know anything.

I looked at him, searched his face for anything - smug, coy, sly, amused, irritated, anything at all. There was nothing on his face. He was leaving every reaction, every emotion, entirely up to me. "Why didn't you tell me you were running to Qo'noS?" I asked staring warily around us as though a Klingon would burst out of a shadow and attack us.

"Would you have come if I had?" was what he asked, though I had felt him hesitate before he did; as though before the words left his mouth he knew they were giving too much away. That they were a mistake.

My eyes immediately were torn from the black expanse and locked onto his face. "Did you want me to come with you?" It amazed me, cause his eyes were hard and guarded and he laughed condescendingly. But all of that only proved that he did, he'd wanted me to come. No answers for any question were given, instead only more questions had been asked. But the answers were there, hanging in the thick muggy air - I wouldn't have come if I'd known where we were going, and he hadn't told me because he didn't want me to stay behind.

And so we walked in silence, well he walked I was in his arms. He stopped by what looked like a shallow cave, barely any cover around us but a mass of dark rock above us. He gingerly sat me down though he gave no other thought to my health before he walked away and searched for anything around us. We were in an uninhabited part of the planet, but you could never be too safe on Qo'noS; especially not with patrols. We wouldn't be seen if they flew over, and there was nothing around to stumble across us, and so he returned and sat beside me.

"Now what?" I asked, and I was not willing to go without an answer. I had helped him kill hundreds of people, something that weighed numbly in my heart as though it had been anesthetized. He would give me an answer.

He barely looked over at me, a slight tilting of his head was all. "We wait for Starfleet to come," he answered simply, and to him it was.

It wasn't so simple to me, I didn't know the extent of how much they wanted him. "How can they come after you without looking like they're declaring war with the Klingons?" I asked, because that's exactly what it would look like if anyone from Starfleet crossed neutral territory for any reason. But I also knew Starfleet wouldn't just leave him, that Admiral Marcus probably wouldn't take the chance of whatever he'd done being brought to light.

His mouth curled and he looked at me. "Well that's for them to decide," he said obviously enjoying whatever game he was playing. "But know they are coming, Elenore. And you need to know what side you will fight on," he said, his voice deepening with severity.

As much as I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I was still good and innocent I couldn't say any of it - because those were the things I was trying to convince myself, and there was no way I could tell him something I didn't fully believe. "Why are you doing all this?" I asked instead of giving him the answer I knew he'd been hoping for.

He sighed grieviously. "How many times, Elenore," he began before I interrupted him.

"You are asking me to go against Starfleet," I said harshly as I looked at him with my own irritated eyes. "To go against everything I believe in," I told him, watching his brow twitch before he rolled his eyes and turned away - I had already proven my beliefs were easily swayed, at least when it came to him. "You are asking me to go against Jim." That got his attention, he knew Jim was everything to me - that he was all I had, and that Jim was siding against him. All of which meant that I was sided against him too. All except love. "So you better have a damn good reason why I would even consider going against all of that."

He looked over at me completely caught off guard. I'd given him an ultimatum. If he wanted me - and my being beside him was proof he did - then he needed to tell me the reason behind his actions. And I'll be honest with you, his want of me was only slight - a small blip in his mind in comparison to everything else; in all reality I was still basically nothing. I think if anything, he was just curious as to how I'd react. If it made a difference in how I viewed Starfleet and him, and what side I would fall on. I don't think he answered me because he wanted to keep me, I think he just wanted to know how devoted I had become to him; how much more he could still use me. "Marcus took everything from me," he said turning away from me, playing the part of a victim. "I'm retaliating in kind."

It took everything I had not say what, or excuse me, or I beg your pardon, or any other saying that proved what he'd said made no sense. Instead I sat quietly and I thought. I thought about everything I knew about John, everything he'd told me whether or not I knew it was true. And then it made sense. "He's the one who took your family."

...

_Spock stared at the report from his K'Normian instrumetation, concerned by what he was reading but confident enough in what he believed to make a first report. "I am detecting two advanced sentient life signs in the Ketha Province. Given the information provided by Mr. Scott and the clear differentiation between this readout and what would be expected were it of Klingon origin, my conclusion is that one of them is most likely John Harrison." _

_Jim's brows furrowed as he processed what Spock had told him. Harrison should have been alone, there was no explanation why there was another person with him, or any previous indications that there ever had been someone working with him. _

_"Is it possible John Harrison had an accomplice?" Uhura asked, as put off by the information as the captain. _

_"Did Mr. Scott come across the record of another individual being transported with John Harrison?" Spock asked barely a moment after she had finished speaking. _

_Jim nodded as he thought back, realizing what had been chocked to mathmatical error had actually been something deliberate. "He'd said Harrison's math had been wrong in three places but that only one person was recorded being beamed. Mr. Scott said with the lack of care if there had been someone else there was no way they could have survived the last transport," Jim answered, a thought snagging in the back of head on who it could be, but never actually reaching the answer. "Either way we should be prepared to fight them both." _

_"Aye, Captain." _

_..._

"Does it make a difference?" John asked turning to me after I figured why he was doing this.

I stared at him hopelessly. Because it did. It made all the difference that Marcus had been the one to destroy his family, it was something I could understand. It was a reason, a good and valid reason for why John had done everything he had. I understood, I felt compassion. And I didn't need to tell him anything, he saw it all on my face before he turned away - before he hid his smile. Because I was now so hoplessly his. Because if there was anyone on earth who could understand the unbearable loss of family, someone to understand killing people to exact revenge; well, it would be me. And he'd made sure that I'd fallen in love with him. So you see, I was already lost. I think I had been the moment he first saw me.

And even then I tried to deny it, at least to myself. I couldn't understand him he was murderer, he'd made me into a murderer so it couldn't make a difference. I opened my mouth to speak, planning to say no but knowing the word that would fall from my tongue was yes, but I was interrupted.

"Attention John Harrison, this is Captain Hikaru Sulu of the U.S.S. Enterprise. We are aware of you and your accomplice's present location and in position to bear on it from a distance. A group of highly trained officers is on its way to your location. If you both do not prepare and agree to surrender yourselves to them immediately upon their arrival, I am instructed to unleash an entire payload of advanced, long-range, undetectable torpedoes that is currently locked on your location. I must inform you that we are prepared to do this despite any possible diplomatic fallout or other reaction from the Klingon community. If you test me, you both will fail."


	17. my creators, and they

_As a sort of heads up, I'm not sure what kind of weapon John used when he fought the Klingons - I called it a gun, but not the kind with bullets cause they were outdated in Star Trek. So when you see the word gun think more laser type of weapon. And since no one reviewed last chapter, I only thank you for reading._

* * *

Breathe in, breathe out. I kept telling myself that as I sat quietly beside John, trying to keep my posture relaxed and not as stiff as my back wanted to be. I had to stay calm, I couldn't give away a single sign that I knew what was coming for us.

"Do you know a Captain Hikaru Sulu?" John asked watching my face closely for any involuntary twitch to let him know I was lying.

I shrugged and shook my head, not trusting my voice not to give away my secret. I didn't know what he'd do if he knew Jim was the one coming, if that would mean he'd use me as bait or if he'd use me as a ransom. I just didn't know, but my gut told me to pretend like I knew nothing - so I trusted it. He'd told me to trust my instinct, that I was smarter than I thought I was; maybe this was one of those moments.

His eyes were heavy on my face, still searching, not yet beliving. So I turned to him with furrowed brows as though I might ask what his problem was, like I had no idea why he was staring at me because I really didn't know Sulu. Believe it or not he bought it, he turned away; though his mind was occupied with other things, things like the torpedoes. "Just as well," he said to himself as he stood, offering me his hand and pulling me up with him.

It was a few seconds before I figured out why we were now standing, it few seconds before I _heard_ why we were. In all the stillness and the quiet the soft sound of an engine buzzing was easily heard from a distance - it struck me as strange though, I had strained for some sound before it finally moved close enough for my ears to hear. But John heard it before I had, and he shouldn't have - no one's ears were that sensitive. Except maybe Mr. Spock's, and John sure as hell wasn't even half vulcan.

There was a smirk on John's face when I looked at him with confused and wary eyes, there was something strange about him - there always had been, only now I was really acknowledging it. "Stay low and keep hidden," he said quietly before walking away, leaving me to follow after him with the strange thoughts of who he really was. It was a while before we saw the ships, we had reached what looked to be some kind of base, and a Klingon vessel had captured and hailed a shuttle - one I knew to be Starfleet but it had no indication of where it came from.

"Idiots," he muttered as he crouched low behind an old building that had fallen apart years ago. Though he was talking about Jim, and most likely Spock since he was the first officer, John was right; the Klingons would not take kindly to humans, and even less if they found out they were with Starfleet. There was a very real chance that the people on the shuttle, _my_ people, would be killed.

I was literally praying that Jim wouldn't decide to come out shooting, which he had to know would be a suicide mission - obviously better than torture, but I couldn't bear to see him die. It took everything I had not to beg John to do something, which could have made everything worse if he figured out it was Jim on the shuttle. Thankfully it was Uhura who stepped out, though I didn't want her dead it was better than Jim - and once John saw Jim's eyes he'd know he was looking at my cousin. I knelt behind John and watched as Uhura spoke with the Klingon, not understanding a word they said though I knew it hadn't gone well. Kind of hard to misinterupt it, he'd wrapped his hand around her jaw.

"Do something."

John looked at me startled, the idea of going in now - when the Klingons were so ready for a fight - was a very stupid idea; even though he had already decided he would. I was staring at him with pleading eyes, my hand clenching his jacket. He heaved a heavy sigh, his eyes hardening with understanding, before he pulled on his hood and covered his face. "Stay here until I call you," he ordered before grabbing his weapon and jumping from behind where we hid. It was a gun. The whole time since he'd blown up the archive he'd had a gun, two actually - and not once had he aimed one at me. Surpringly enough that was the thought that ran through my head as I sat on my knees and watched him shoot the Klingons, seeing Uhura had gotten herself free and back toward Jim and Spock. In the next two minutes or so, because that was how fast it all happened, my eyes were locked on John. I didn't look for Jim, or Spock or Uhura, I didn't look to make sure that the people I cared about were okay. For the first time since I met him, I was really seeing how inhuman he was.

He took down Klingon after Klingon, masses of them, their ship; he ran and dodged faster than an average person - faster than an above average person too. Not even Spock was as adept at fighting. He continued firing at them, taking down the other fighters who were flown in, taking down those ships as well. I didn't even realize I had gotten to my feet to get a better look at him. I didn't realize anything, nothing but him. He wasn't human. He couldn't be. And I was left wondering who the hell he was.

In the end it was John who took them all out, Jim Spock and Uhura crouched down as they watched him just like I did. He charged at the last remaining few, jumping an impossible height and distance before he killed them. It was when he didn't use the weapons, when he used his hands, how obvious it was that he wasn't merely human. I didn't realize the extent of the danger of the situation until John was aiming his gun at the three.

"Stand down," Spock ordered aiming a Klingon rifle at John. It was quieter now, only death and static could be heard; and so Spock's voice reached my ears clearly.

"How many torpedoes?" John demanded as he advanced, pulling his hood off and revealing his face. I knew he'd sooner hurt them than give them half the patience he gave me.

"Stand down!" Spock yelled.

I brought a hand to my mouth gasping as John shot the phaser out of Spock's hand; and yet I didn't yell for John to stop, I didn't move. The answer to why is simple; John had told me to stay here. The answer to why I listened to John, well, that's not so simple.

"The torpedoes, the weapons you threatened me with in your message, how many are there?" His voice was almost frantic, needing an answer; I had spent weeks listening to that voice, I heard the tremor beneath it where the others didn't. What I didn't know was why that was important. And I didn't hear Spock's answer, he'd spoken too softly for me to.

John's gun was aimed at Jim, and he was staring at him; only taking his eyes off him when Spock answered him, and then he looked back to Jim. Before he spoke, his mind was churning. The torpedoes meant something, something only he knew - save Admiral Marcus - but Jim's face was also going through his mind. Rather, Jim's eyes. They were so blue, so bright blue it almost hurt to stare at them too long. They were my eyes. It was then, John realized who he was staring at. I told you, the moment he saw Jim's eyes he'd know him. He knew it in a second, even though that was only one of hundreds of thoughts raging through his wonderfully dark and twisted mind. But I suppose I should continue.

"I surrender," John said throwing his weapon aside, not doing anything when Spock grabbed and aimed the rifle back at him. Even then I didn't move, not even when Jim hit him over and over again doing nothing more than tiring himself out because it didn't phase John in least - another show he couldn't be human, he should have been unconscious, a bloody pulp.

"Captain," Uhura screamed seeing he wouldn't stop, as well as that it wasn't doing anything.

Spock continued aiming his phaser at John. "Where is your accomplice?" he demanded, as emotionless as ever. There was that word again, it was the second time I'd been called John's accomplice; the problem is, I don't know if they were wrong.

John looked to Jim and gave a short breathy laugh when he realized that Jim Kirk didn't realize his cousin was standing a hundred feet away. "I release to you my captive," he told them, shocking them with the revelation that who they thought was helping him was actually being held against their will. "Consider it a peace offering," he said lowly, staring hard at Jim who looked back at him with furrowed brows and a fury barely leashed. "Elenore."

I forced myself from running down to them, from throwing myself into Jim's arms and crying. Instead I walked steadily toward them, seeing their wide eyes and shocked faces - even Spock, as minute as his emotion was. The closer I walked the more I could hear Jim was panting; he'd really laid it on him, and yet John didn't even seem bothered.

His eyes were on me. "You lied to me," he said when I stopped beside him. I took my eyes from Jim's to look at John; he was impressed, I'd had him fooled.

"The Sulu I know isn't a captain," I offered as a means of defense. It was a technicality if there ever was one. I didn't see the small smile curl on John's lips, I was already turning to Jim - who was now realizing that I had called him when John had me, and he'd told me he couldn't talk. His eyes were wide, pained, his breathing labored and his hand bloodied and already bruising. I knew he wanted to pull me into his arms, it was what I wanted; but not with John watching. And so Jim did no more than place a hand around my back and led me away from John. "Cuff him," he said quietly to Spock, leading me onto the shuttle.

John walked onto the shuttle, his hands cuffed in front of him, and Spock pushed him down into a seat and I made to sit beside him.

"Ellie."

I looked at Jim to see him staring at me like I had three heads. I was voluntarily sitting beside John, the man who was holding me against my will; how strange it must have been for the three of them, not knowing what had happened the month we'd been together. But I knew I'd made a mistake, it was written all over Jim's appalled face, and I quietly stood leaving John's warmth and sat beside Jim.

It was completely silent as we flew back to where the Enterprise was stationed, or rather where it had fallen out of warp - but I didn't know that. The only thing that could be heard was our breathing, and the soft humming of Spock's rifle as he sat across from John. "You okay?" Jim asked as softly as he could, glancing over at me to see how I was.

"Yeah," I breathed, wishing he could hold me, wanting to feel his arms around me so that I knew everything was okay; but then something in my head would shift and it was suddenly John's arms I wished to have surrounding me. Needless to say, I don't think I was okay. I think when Jim kissed me goodbye before I first went to London was the last time he ever saw me when I was okay. I felt his fingers brush against my hand, a soft touch to let me know he was there but I pulled away. He looked at me to see that I was trying not to cry and he turned away, letting me get myself under control - he knew me more than anyone else. He was one half of me. And so he didn't touch me again, because his touch made me break, and in the same silence as before we reached the Enterprise; something I had honestly never thought I would see again.

"Take her to sickbay," he told Uhura, who wrapped arm around my back and took me away before they unloaded John. I turned back though to see him, to find that his eyes were already on me; I don't think he wanted me to go. I didn't know how stand if it wasn't by his side, and I don't think he knew how to without me either. But he looked away before I did, because I wasn't the only thing he was thinking of - I wasn't the most important thing on the ship, I wasn't what he wanted most.

"Come on," Uhura said gently as she pulled me away, seeing where my gaze had gone. We weren't friends, we were too different; she was emotion, and I ran from my feelings; we didn't click. But in that moment, I was really glad she was there. Uhura tried talking to me, at least I think she did, but I could barely hear her over the sound of my own thoughts - there were too many, I was overwhelmed with the need to know who John was and how he could do any of what he could. I played over and over all the humanoid species I knew of that were like John, with his strength, his stamina, his brilliance - and I was just starting to realize how brilliant he was. Eventually she stopped trying to get me to talk, I wasn't exactly cooporating, and instead we walked quietly until we reached the sickbay. It wasn't even a conscious thought on how to get there, that's how well I knew this part of the ship. This was my station, this was my life - not with John.

But even still I wasn't listening, because I was now dealing with the problem that I wanted John - against all odds I really just wanted to stand next to him. And so I still wasn't listening when we entered the sickbay, I was just walking in a numb haze.

"Dr. McCoy," Uhura called getting his attention.

Bones' brows were knitted almost comically he was so confused at my standing there, it didn't help that I was in street clothes instead of a uniform. "You get the guy that was helping him?" he asked. "And what the hell is she doing here?" I don't want you to think he was being rude, that's just him - but in all honesty I should be in London working at the hospital. I shouldn't be on the ship, I shouldn't be in jeans with a bruise still on my face. In all honesty, I think he was worried for me; and Bones had never been a man comfortable with his feelings.

Uhura pointed to me making his eyes widen. "His captive," she said.

In at least two years it was the first time he'd looked at me and wasn't glaring. He was shocked, upset, blamed himself cause that was just the kind of person he was. And in all honesty, he should blame himself. If he hadn't been such an ass that I couldn't stand working with him I wouldn't have gone to London, which meant nothing else that happened would have taken place; in a way, it really was his fault. But he was scared cause he knew I'd die, I would have understood if anyone had actually told me; but I never knew.

"I'll get her checked out, thanks," Bones said taking my arm before sitting me on the examination table. Even as he looked at the readings to see if I was in full health he kept stealing glances at me. "You okay?" he asked gently, standing beside the table and looking down at me.

His eyes were so soft, so caring and concerned; only a year or two before Bones and I had talked everyday, touched, had sex. Simple things for two people falling in love. And then suddenly his eyes had hardened, his voice was cold, and he didn't touch me anymore - as though it hurt. I didn't realize that it did hurt him, cause he hadn't meant to fall for me, and now he knew I was supposed to die. I hadn't meant to fall for him either, and it hurt when he'd pulled away.

I didn't know if I was in love with him anymore, staring up at him; I really didn't know. He smiled when I brought my hand to his face, and it was a comfort to feel the warmth of his hand on top of mine. Our reverie was broken when his comminucator beeped, only I was the one to pull away first; I turned away, because my mind had decided to think of John again and I didn't want Bones to see it in my eyes. His voice was muffled as he turned and talked to Jim, coming back after barely a minute and scanning my face quickly. "Nurse, finish scanning her," he said before turning to me. "I'll be back in a minute," he said softly, squeezing my shoulder before he left. I was safe, John was now a prisoner and couldn't do anything to me. And yet, somehow that didn't make me happy.


	18. will all agree that I'm a suffocator

French: thank you very much for reviewing, I'm really glad to know you liked it.

* * *

_"How is she?" Jim asked the moment he saw Bones. _

_Bones nodded as he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "She's not really talking, but other than that she seems to be doing okay," he answered, remembering how empty her eyes had been. _

_"Did he do anything to her?" Jim asked, sure there was something John Harrison had done to make Ellie follow after him. Because if there wasn't, well, he didn't know what he'd do._

_Bones didn't think it was a good idea to tell him what he'd found when he scanned her face, at least not yet; Jim was already angry and on edge. But he had to tell Jim something, even if it would only fuel his rage. "There's something on her wrist, I don't know what it is," he answered. "She wouldn't let me touch it." _

_Jim nodded, a burning anger boiling in his blood as he thought of all things that could have happened to her; remembering the way he'd yelled at her for staying, realizing she'd stayed cause of John Harrison. He was more angry with himself, he should have known something was wrong but he'd been stubborn and she'd gotten hurt because of it. _

_"You don't look good Jim," Bones said watching his friend's jaw clench and unclench, knowing anything he'd have said about Ellie would upset him. "What's your concern about him?" _

_Jim shook his head as he thought of John Harrison. "I don't know what he was is, Bones. He just took out an entire Klingon security team single-handedly. I want to know how - and don't tell me it's because he has a good shooting eye. There's something else going on here that's more than passing strange. I need you to help me substitue 'facts' for 'strange.'" _

_Bones considered what Jim had said. "Sounds like we have a superman on board," he commented brusquely. _

_They walked into the observation room of John Harrison's holding cell, and Jim's eyes ignited with fury anew. "You tell me," he said through clenched teeth. _

_Bones looked at John Harrison, the man who'd had Ellie as a captive, for the first time. Other than appearing strangely calm, there was nothing visually exceptional about him. There was no kindness in the man's eyes as he stared at John - who John could only guess was Leonard McCoy, which he learned from Elenore. Bones moved the irising device to the middle of the glass and opened it so only a fist to get through. "Pur your arm through the hole, I'm gonna take a blood sample," Bones told him. _

_John Harrison seemed to hesitated for only a moment as he pondered the request before pulling up his sleeve and complying. There were many thoughts going through John's mind, many instances that he thought and figured would end in the death of the Enterprise; something Jim Kirk would be oblivious to for he still believed the man giving him orders was on the right side. "Why aren't we moving, Captain?" he asked, hoping to goad something out of him - one of the thoughts swirling in his head being when Jim had made Elenore cry. "An unexpected malfunction, perhaps in your warp core. Conveniently stranding you on the edge of Klingon space?" he asked shocking them all with his complete knowledge of what happened on their ship. _

_"How the hell d'you know th-" _

_"Bones," Jim said sharply cutting him off. _

_John continued staring at Jim Kirk, his eyes having never left him. "I think you would find my insight valuable, Captain." _

_Bones looked at John's poised face, showing no emotion at all not even in his eyes. He closed the irising device before sliding it to the side of the glass, his eyes a mask of boiling fury. _

_"We done?" Jim asked him softly, entirely ready to put John Harrison behind him. _

_But Bones wasn't, not yet. "Did you hit her?" he asked abruptly, causing John to turn his eyes to him; his eyes brows furrowing in curiosity. Both Jim and Spock had looked to the doctor as well, both having assumed the bruise on her cheek had come from elsewhere due to no other mark on her. "I scanned the bruise on her cheek, there's a small fracture on the bone. I was told you're exceptionally strong so I'll ask you again; did you hit her?" _

_John continued staring at the doctor, his eyes narrowing, his face becoming dangerous. Jim looked to his prisoner, his breathing thinning and his blood freezing. "A mistake, I assure you," John said softly, his deep voice grumbling, "one I never made again." _

_That was all Bones needed to know Ellie had been forced to John's side, everything he needed to know in order to hate the man. Bones looked to Jim, seeing the unleashed rage swarming in his eyes. Jim nodded to him, taking a breath and they all turned away from John Harrison; not giving in to further communications with him. Bones left the two and headed toward the medical wing, the door closing behind him before he caught what John Harrison said that called Jim back. His thoughts were now on Ellie._

...

"Oh Doctor McCoy, thank goodness," I heard the nurse who'd finished scanning me say as she walked out of the examination room to meet him.

I rolled my eyes and laid back on the bed as I waited for her to finish talking to Bones so he could come in here and yell at me. And he walked in a few minutes later with a vial of blood, his brows knitted in irritation, but he said nothing. He sat down beside the bed I was put in and grabbed a microscope before preparing a slide. I sat back on the bed and watched him as he fiddled with the microscope waiting for him to say something, knowing he would because it was just him.

"You can't be mean to the nurses because Nurse Chapel left," he said as he looked at his slide.

I heaved a sigh and turned my head to look at him. "Nurse Chapel would have listened when I told her not to touch me," I grumbled.

Bones cocked a brow and looked over at me. "She try to look at the thing on your wrist?" he asked watching me closely, watching as I looked down at it. "What is it?" he asked softly, gently taking my arm in his hand and running his thumb over it.

He didn't do anything more than run the pad of his thumb over it, warming my skin. Not even when Jim came in and saw it, the anger in his eyes melting into concern. It was like old times, me Jim and Bones; it was almost comfortable. I guess that's why I answered him, even though it made John look worse than I thought he was. "It's a tracker."

"So he'd know where you were," Jim said seconds after I finished. I knew the moment I saw his eyes something was wrong, at least that he thought something was wrong with me.

I nodded looking away from, wilting under his accusing eyes. "And he'd hear what I said."

I didn't see Bones look up at Jim with hard eyes, didn't see that it was Bones who was defending me and Jim who was interrogating me. "What happens if you try to take it off?" Bones asked, his voice soft and soothing. I suppose I really was a victim, though I didn't really feel like one; and I don't think Jim really thought I was either, which meant he'd talked to John.

"It explodes," I said, knowing my voice was level with uncaring and not knowing how to change that. Not knowing if it mattered how I sounded, if it was already too late because I'd sat next to John on the shuttle - I don't think Jim knew who's side I was on anymore, and it honestly broke my heart because I didn't either.

I was right though, it was becoming too late. Because no matter how much Jim loved me, no matter how much he wanted to believe that I was innocent - Thomas Harewood had a sick daughter in a hospital, and Jim had been keeping tabs on me and seen that I'd switched to the Children's Hospital and that my last day had been the day before the archive exploded. And then he discovers that John had an accomplice, and though it turned out it was me, it doesn't mean that _wasn't_ his accomplice. All the signs were there, all the red flags and the warnings. And Jim was looking at me so hopelessly, so infuriated that I could possibly let this happen; that he could have let it happen. "He knew me," Jim said softly, his eyes bright and searching. "He knew the moment he saw me who I was. Why?"

I looked up at him, seeing in his eyes was desperate for me to say anything but what came out of my mouth. "You have my eyes."

His eyes hardened, blocking the pain that had speared through them. "That's what he said when I asked," he told me, his mouth tightening as he turned away. "Tell me," he said before he left, barely turning to look at me, "did he save us only because of the torpedoes, or because you asked?"

The moment his eyes met mine he had his answer, and he looked so broken, so defeated. "Jim?" Bones asked shocked, that being a very lethal accusation considering all that John had done.

"Come on Bones," was all he said before he walked out the door. Bones looked at me to see my own sad eyes and he sighed shaking his head, standing before kissing my forehead and following after his captain.

I curled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms tight around myself as though I could myself from falling apart. It was no use though, I already had. I had crumbled into pieces in John's hands, willingly. He ruined me, and I let him. He'd made it so I was now with the people I knew, the people I might even call friends; and all I wanted was him.

...

I entered the observing room to John's cell, seeing two men were sitting at their desks watching him. He was sitting stoically on the small cot staring at the nothingness in front of him, but he turned when the door opened and nearly smiled when he saw me. "The captain would like you to arm yourselves as a precaution," I told the two, keeping my eyes away from John.

To my relief they nodded and left to do as I'd told them. They did not know to be suspicious of me, to everyone but Jim I was still Elenore Davis - the Captain's cousin, that I was one of them. They trusted me, and they were wrong to. Because the moment they left and the door closed I locked it. And I turned to John.


End file.
